If the Dark Returns
by casti3l
Summary: The Mark of Cain, a pawned soul, and failing grace all spell trouble for Alex. As tempers rise and friendships fracture, her relationship with Castiel may hang in the balance. But the return of an old friend will leave Alex with a choice: does she side with her head, or with her heart? Part 4 of the I See Fire series.
1. Prologue

**Here's a short extra something that didn't quite make it as a full chapter. Consider it a small preview of what's to come.  
\- casti3l**

* * *

...

 **Hell**

 **A** lex shifted on her stone seat, fingers drumming on the chilled armrest. Hell's throne room lay out before her, silent and empty, and the hunter shifted as her drumming increased. Her phone vibrated loudly from where it rested on the seat beside her, but she ignored it; it was Sam, no doubt. He had been calling her for hours.

The heavy double doors swung open, and Crowley stalked through, followed closely by Dean. The Winchester's eyes flashed black, and Alex shoved down the discomfort that arose in her stomach. "It's about time." Her fingers stopped their drumming, and she straightened up in her seat. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I believe that's my throne."

"I believe that it is." Alex brushed off Crowley's words with a noise of disinterest, but before she could continue her retort, she felt a strange twisting in her gut. Her gaze turned to Dean; the demon's eyes were narrowed in concentration, and Alex scoffed. "Stop that. You don't have the strength yet to control—"

She cut off with a surprised squeak as she was flung from her chair, and she hit the ground with a loud thud, groaning in pain as her chest hit the stone floor. Crowley chuckled, and Alex pushed herself into a sitting position, still dazed from her fall. "Dean and I have been practicing. He's getting good, isn't he?" The King of Hell crossed over to his throne and sat down, leaving Alex scowling after him. "What is it you want?"

"Sam's been calling me." Alex pushed herself to her feet, brushing off the dust from her jeans as she tried to ignore the pain in her limbs that was sure to result in brusing. "He's not going to stop, so what do you want me to tell him?"

"Block his number."

"He's got a million phones, dumbass," Alex retorted, throwing a glare back towards Dean. "I'll have to tell him something eventually."

"You tell him nothing." Crowley snapped his fingers, drawing Alex's attention back onto him. "No, you don't know where Dean is. No, you don't know where I am. You don't even know where you are." Crowley crossed his legs as he reclined in his seat. "And let's be clear that this is an order; you tell him and Castiel nothing."

Alex's scowl darkened, but she knew what the demon wanted. "I understand." She pushed her phone into her pocket, and added, "I've been here for three days now; how much longer do I have to stay here? Cas is getting worried."

"You'll stay until I say so." Crowley's eyes glittered, and Alex squared her jaw. "And until Dean gets stronger. Speaking of." He motioned towards the Winchester, whose eyes had returned to their original green. "You're in charge of keeping Squirrel out of harm's way." An angel blade appeared in Crowley's hands, and he tossed it to her feet where it clatters against the stone. "Don't let him out of your sight."

Dean scoffed loudly as Alex stooped to pick up the weapon. "I don't need a babysitter."

"You need what I say you need." Crowley's voice rose, deep with authority. "And if you think I'm giving you free reign of the world, you're madder than I thought."

Alex glanced over at Dean, curious as to how the newly-turned demon would respond, but the Winchester only stalked away, pushing through the double doors and out of sight. "Yeah. There's no way this isn't a stupid idea." She looked over at Crowley, expecting a rebuke, but the demon merely waved her after Dean. With a roll of her eyes, Alex left.

...

 **One Week Later**  
 **Beulah, North Dakota**

 **T** he club was loud, filled with sweaty bodies and alcohol. Alex sat at the bar, toying impatiently with a glass of whiskey as she tried to ignore the masses around her. Her gaze was locked on Dean, who was leaning against the counter on the other end of the room, openly flirting with a busty blonde. "You're staring." The counter creaked as the bartender leaned up next to her, and Alex snorted in amusement.

"I'm not supposed to let him out of my sight," she replied with a grumble. "I'll be dammed if he gives me the slip again."

"Tell me about it. Babysitting sucks." The bartender refilled her glass, his brown eyes sparkling, and Alex chuckled as she took a sip of her bitter drink. "If you ask me, Crowley is severely underestimating my talent."

"Yeah. You and me both." Alex motioned to the crowd around her, lowering her voice so only the demon in front of her could hear. "Mind helping a human out? How many does Crowley have stationed here?"

"Apart from you and me? Three." The bartender held up his fingers, and he pointed towards the woman beside Dean. "There's one. Haven't seen the other two yet." He frowned in Dean's direction before adding, "Crowley's gone mad if you ask me. It's like that Winchester has become his pet project or something — can you believe that? A _Winchester._ "

"Yeah, it's crazy." Alex slid her glass back and forth along the smooth wooden bar with a shake of her head. "But I guess buddying up to the guy with the Mark of Cain isn't a bad idea; having him in your pocket is even better." She took a sip before adding, "I don't see why we had to be dragged into this mess, though." Her phone rang, and she pulled it out with a frown. "Hang on. I should take this."

"Sam?" The bartender's face darkened, and he leaned forward. "You sure you're supposed to be talking to him?"

"I'll talk to whoever I damn please." Alex pushed herself off of the barstool and nodded towards Dean. "Keep an eye on him for me. I'll be right back." The bartender nodded, and Alex pushed her way out of the club and into the back alleyway. "Hello?" She answered her ringing phone, suppressing a shiver at the cool night air. "Sam?"

"Alex? Thank God." Relief filled Sam's words, and Alex leaned back against the brick building as his voice grew sharp. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I … uh … I can't really tell you that." Alex nudged at a discarded beer bottle with her foot, and she watched it roll away.

"O-Okay. Uh, uh, have you seen Dean? He's gone, he's not answering his phone — I don't know if he's dead or alive or possessed —"

"I can't tell you that either, Sam." Alex pushed herself off of the wall, quickly adding, "How's Cas doing? I missed his last call."

"You missed _all_ his calls." Sam's voice grew sharp, and Alex winced at the accusation in his tone. "Are you working with Crowley or not?"

"I said I'm not allowed to say!" Alex's own tone rose, and she straightened up from the wall. "So what do you think? I'm not doing this by choice, Sam. I just want to come home, but I can't." She heard voices as a couple walked out of the bar, and she dropped her voice. "I really need to go. I'm sorry, Sam. Don't call me again." Alex hung up before the Winchester could respond, and she pressed her phone up against her chest as she drew in a deep breath, steeling herself and regaining her composure.

After a moment, she pushed her way back into the club, weaving her way back to her seat at the bar. She craned her neck, searching for Dean; the Winchester hadn't moved from the blonde, unaware that she had even left. Satisfied, Alex continued on, pushing through the jostling crowd before she stopped with a frown.

Her seat was gone, her stool occupied by a dark, skinny man with hunched shoulders. Alex watched as he slammed down a shot and waved the bartender over for another. With a deep-set scowl, she stepped forward, tapping him on the shoulder, and as the man turned, she reached out to bury her hands in his shirt and pull him off of the stool.

Her free fist lashed out, connecting with his jaw, and the shock of the sudden blow send the man falling to the ground. "That's my seat." Alex stepped over him and sat down; she heard the stranger scramble to his feet, but she paid him no attention as two demons stepped between her them, blocking any form of retaliation.

Alex slammed down the shot of whiskey, her eyes narrowed in grey slits as the bartender cocked an amused eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing." The demon nudged her whiskey glass back towards her, and Alex watched as it stopped beside her hands. "Hard to believe you were an angel not too long ago. We'll make a demon of you yet." He refilled her glass with a hearty chuckle and walked away, leaving Alex to glower after him. He was wrong; she might be Crowley's bitch, but that was temporary. She glanced over at Dean as she took a sip of her drink, and disgust flashed through her as black eyes flashed back at her. No. That wasn't going to be her. She'd get her grace back, save Dean, and kill some demons in the process.

Her glass shattered in her hands, and the ex-angel looked down at the shards in surprise, unaware that she had been gripping it too tightly. Dark eyes turned onto her, and Alex dropped her gaze, brushing the fragments further down the bar with her bloody palm. She'd do all of those things, one day. But not today.

...

 **F** ootsteps approached, and Alex pulled herself into wakefulness, fighting off the sluggish hold that sleep still had on her limbs. Her back ached, having spent the night reclined against the stiff back of a wooden chair, and the ex-angel groaned out her discomfort. "What time is it?" She reached down towards her phone, which had fallen from her lap, as she looked up and down the hallway. Her gaze landed on Crowley, and she squinted up against the harsh hallways lights as looked into his dark face. "What do you want?"

"I thought I told you not to let Dean out of your sight." The demon's voice was cross, and Alex scoffed, dropping her gaze back down onto her phone. It was almost six in the morning, and she groaned again.

"I'm not an idiot, Crowley." She slowly pushed herself to her feet, hissing as her hand clamped around the back of the chair. She yanked away, staring down at the lacerations — it took her a second to place them with last night's accident with her glass. "Dean took that blonde chick back to his room here," she explained, continuing on as if she hadn't taken a second's pause.

"And …?" Crowley's eyes flashed. "Last time he did that, he snuck out the bathroom window. It took us almost a full day to find him."

"Yeah, thanks, Einstein. I remember." Alex pointed to the door she was guarding, hand directed towards the ground in front of it where a thick line of salt stretched across the carpet. "I fucking salted the window and fire escape while he was at the bar last night," she added. "He and that whore of his are still inside."

"They better be." The King's tone left no question about the underlying threat, and Alex bit her tongue to keep herself from snapping out a retort. "Well? Let me in."

Alex kicked aside the salt, and the door swung open. Crowley stepped inside, and Alex followed, shoving her hands into her pockets as they stepped into the dark room. Dean was inside, reclined against the bed, and his eyes flashed black at their entrance. "What do you want?" He rose to his feet, arms crossed as he glared down at Alex. "You salted the door? Fuck you."

Alex scoffed, but she didn't waste her breath on a response. "And where, pray tell, were you planning to go?" Crowley asked, and his eyes flickered to the closed bathroom door; Alex tipped her head at the sound of a shower running.

"Out." The Winchester's answer was vague as he pulled on a shirt. "Why should you care?" He picked up the First Blade, his eyes flickering closed for the quickest of seconds as the Blade's power rushed through his veins.

Alex frowned at the sight, and Crowley cleared his throat. "How would you like a job to do?" he offered in a low voice. "Some of Abaddon's minions are holed up in Missouri. I need them neutralized." He nodded towards the First Blade, and Dean's hand tightened his around the handle. "What do you say?" When Dean's gaze only sharpened, he nodded. "Good. Glad that's settled. Take Alex with you."

"Oh come on." Alex and Dean spoke at the same time, and they both exchanged a scowl as Alex added, "Why me?"

"Because I said so. And until Dean shows he can be trusted," Crowley added, turning to the Winchester, "I'm not letting him off on his own. Understand?" He waited until both nodded before he straightened the cuffs on his suit. "Good."

He led the way out into the hall, and Alex stalked after him. She heard Dean follow, but was unprepared for the shove that sent her crashing into the doorframe as the Winchester pushed his way in front of her. Her chin collided with the wood, and she bit back a cry of surprise as the impact split her lip. Blood washed over her tongue, and Alex spit onto the floor as she scooped of a handful of salt in revenge. The crystals flew through the air, burning wherever they landed on Dean's skin, and the Winchester flinched away with a hiss. "Don't push me," Alex growled and she lengthened her stride to pass Dean and follow Crowley down the hall.

...

 **T** he Impala rolled to a stop in front of a gas station, and the squeal of the brakes jolted Alex into wakefulness. She groaned at the stiffness in her spine as she looked around, rubbing tight circles in the back of her neck. "What's going on?" She blinked as she looked around, and the ex-angel let out a long exhale at the sight of a dingy gas station. "Ah."

"Gas." Dean threw the car into park and got out, slamming the metal door behind him with a force that shook the entire car. "Got a problem with that?"

"No, I don't have a —" Alex's lips set into a tight line, and she undid her seatbelt and got out as well. "Just … stay here. I'm going to go get myself a snack, because unlike you, I still need to eat." She crossed the parking lot, pausing only long enough to shout back, "Don't you dare leave without me."

The demon gave no sign that he had heard, and Alex stormed into the small brick building with a dark, muttered curse. The clerk greeted her, but she ignored him, making her way into the back of the store to where the dark refrigerators hummed quietly. She grabbed an energy drink and stuffed it under her arm as she stalked down the chip aisle to grab a snack.

Dean was still standing beside the gas pump as she returned to the counter, and she dropped her purchases down onto the counter as she dug out her wallet. "I don't need a bag," she mumbled as she pulled out a ten dollar bill, but the cashier's response was lost under the loud roar of an engine.

The Impala's lights flickered on, and Alex looked up sharply to watch as the car began to roll away. "No, no, no. Hey!" She grabbed her food and rushed out the door, but the rusty car was already pulling onto the street, engine revving as it sped away. "Dean!" Alex slid to a stop at the edge of the parking lot, watching helplessly as the car disappeared into the night. "Dammit!" Her chips fell from her grasp as she kicked angrily at a rock, sending it skittering out across the road. "Dammit!"

The sound of the car faded into the night, and Alex looked up and down the darkened road. Dean wasn't coming back; that much she knew. "Crowley?" Her words rang through the dusty night air, and the ex-angel stooped to pick up her dropped food before she shouted out the demon's name. "Crowley! Dean's gone."

"He's _what_?" Crowley appeared behind her, and Alex spun around. "And how, pray tell, did that happen?"

"I got out to get food when he was getting gas and he just drove off without me." Alex's jaw squared angrily as she glared off down the road, and she took a moment to inhale sharply before adding, "Is this even worth it? Have one of your minions babysit. I just want to go home."

"You'll go home when I say you can." Crowley lifted his fingers in a snap, and cold, dark energy enveloped her, crushing her ribs and blacking out her vision. It faded within a second, and Alex found herself seated in the front seat beside Dean.

The demon reacted violently, the car swerving in surprise as he let out a curse, and Alex angrily shoved the back of chips between her legs as she cast him a dark glare. "Forget something?" she snapped.

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Crowley cleared his throat, drawing their attention onto him. The King of Hell was seated in the back, leaning forward slightly between the two of them, and Alex's lips set in a tight line. "I thought I told the two of you to work together."

"Yeah, I don't think that's going to work."

"You don't get a choice." Crowley's voice grew sharp and scathing. "Not until I can trust you, do you understand me?" His fingers snapped, and Alex flinched at the coldness that settled over her skin.

"The hell did you do to me?" she snapped, whirling around to glare at the King of Hell.

"Consider it a demonic shock collar." Crowley's brown eyes flickered between her and Dean, his face twisted in displeasure. "If either of you go outside of fifty feet of each other …" He trailed off, and was unprepared for the jolt of electricity that shot up her spine. She twisted in alarm, and black spots flashed across her eyes — from the way the car violently swerved, she was not the only one that felt the effect of Crowley's spell.

"Son a bitch," Dean cursed as he fought to regain control of the speeding vehicle, and Alex echoed him, venom filling every word.

"I'll take it off once the two of you learn to play nicely." The demon leaned back in his seat, satisfied at their reactions, and he was gone before Alex had the chance to snap.

The ex-angel whipped back around to glare at Dean. "Great." She angrily shoved her drink into the cup holder. "Great. Thanks a lot, asshat."

"Oh, so it's my fault —"

"Yeah, you fucking left me at the gas station! And now I'm stuck with you until Crowley takes the leash off. You think I want to be here? I want to go home, Dean." Alex slumped down in her seat, her anger fuming beneath her skin. "And now thanks to you I'm literally going to be with you until — until who knows when."

The car screeched as it turned onto a dirt road, and Alex barely had time to brace herself as Dean slammed on the brakes, sending the vehicle skidding to a stop. "We're here." The Winchester growled out the words as he climbed out of the car, and Alex followed. "Stay out of my way."

"Not a chance." Alex pulled her angel blade out of the glove compartment, eyes narrowed as Dean picked up the first Blade. "We're going in together."

Her back hit the tree with a thud, and Alex grunted in pain as Dean's arm pinned her there, a solid iron band across her chest. "What the hell?" Her angel blade clattered to the ground, and fire danced in her eyes. "What's your problem? Why do you hate me, huh?"

"You know why." Dean's eyes flashed black. "I can't trust you."

"Can't trust me my ass." The ex-angel's lips curled up into a snarl. "Is this because of Sheol? Or because of Crowley's deal? Because let me tell you — the last thing I wanted to do was to become Crowley's bitch." Dean's grip tightened, constricting her chest, and Alex gasped in surprise. "And yet somehow I'm still better than you. Look at you, a fucking demon, letting your brother think that you're _dead_ while you run around, what? Banging hookers and getting drunk? What I did, it's _nothing_ compared to what you are."

"Shut up!" Dean's shout made her flinch, but confidence rushed through her as she stubbornly held his gaze.

"No! You've been pushing me around for years, and you know what? I let you do it because you were right. Every hit, every shove, every sharp word was justified because I'd screwed up, and I knew it. You want to punch me because I sold my soul, lock me up? Fine by me — it's nothing I wouldn't have done myself. But this? This unwarranted bullying? I'm sick of it."

She watched as Dean scoffed, and she reached up, burying her hands in his shirt, fingers clenching tight as she pushed back against his sturdy chest.

"You know why you really hate me, Dean? It's because when you look at me, you only see yourself, and you hate it. That's why Crowley put us together; we're the same, you and I. Crowley once told me that all demons are built off one of the seven deadly sins. You and me, ours is anger. That's all you feel right now, the foundation of all you'll ever feel." She drew in a deep breath against Dean's tight grip. "You don't know how to control it, not yet. And without me, you never will."

Energy pulsed through her veins, a sudden rush of adrenaline, and the ex-angel shoved Dean, sending the demon reeling away. "So let's get something straight, alright? You want to get pissed, take your anger out? You do it on them." She flung her hand out towards the cabin as she stepped forward, her grey eyes flashing in the moonlight. "Not on me. You _never_ take your anger out on your own team, you understand me, Winchester? I'm fucking tired of you pushing me around, using me like your personal punching bag. This stops _now_."

Dean's eyes blinked to green, but the snarl on his face didn't fade.

"You hear me?" Alex's voice grew, and another step brought her into his personal space, face inches from his. "You push me around, I put a bullet in your brain."

"It won't kill me."

"No," Alex agreed, "but trust me, it'll fucking hurt. We clear?" Her grey eyes flickered, searching his for any sign of mutiny, but there was nothing. "Good." She stepped away and retrieved her fallen weapon from the dirt. "Then let's go."


	2. Black

Good morning! It is 9am on a Friday morning, and I'm sitting in the library, coffee in hand, thinking, "Man, what a good day to post some fanfiction."

Admittedly, I'm only halfway through writing this season, but with 18 credits, 7 lab hours, 6 volunteer hours, and 8 hours of paid work, that doesn't leave much time for homework, sleep, and, most importantly, writing. But I didn't want to keep everyone waiting, so I'll be posting up to the mid-season finale, take a short break to finish, and then reconvene.

I'm thinking the posting schedule will be every Tuesday and Friday, so tune in then for more pain!

-casti3l

...

* * *

 **November 10th, 2014**  
 **Beulah, North Dakota**

 **T** he smell of alcohol and sex permeated the air. Alex's fingers drummed impatiently on the greasy wooden table as she looked around the dim bar, grey eyes narrowed distastefully at what lay around her. Crowley sat at a table to her left, deep in conversation with two black-eyed demons, and the hunter cocked her head, trying to make out words, but the music drowned everything out, a raucous sound matched by an equally discordant voice. The lyrics were unclear, slurred and off-key, and the ex-angel's eyes flickered up to the black screen behind the karaoke machine. _I'm Too Sexy._ It was hard to believe that the song could undergo an even worse rendition than the original, and yet, somehow, it had.

Dean stood up on the stage, a microphone in one hand, a beer in the other, completely oblivious to his audience's discouraging gestures. "Turn it off!" a woman from the crowd yelled, but her jeering only spurred the demon to sing louder.

"Everybody!" he yelled, arms stretched wide, and Alex lifted her drink to her lips, welcoming the bitter burn. It was barely noon, but the hours were beginning to blur together; day or night, she was with Dean at the bar, drinking. She watched as the Winchester winked over at the waitress, and she turned to look back at Crowley, exasperation evident on her freckled face.

"Dean." She crooked her finger, beckoning the demon over as the song finished, and the Winchester joined her at the table, his step arrogant yet dutiful. He sunk into his chair, one arm slung over the back as he set his beer down. "Having fun?" She watched as his gaze continued past her, landing on the blonde waitress, and she tapped her fingers on the table. "Hey. Dude."

The Winchester shrugged, and a cocky grin spread across his face. "Not yet." He got back to his feet and brushed past her, and Alex's lips pursed together as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey that sat beside her half-empty glass on his way past. Today marked the end of the sixth week with the black-eyed Winchester, and while the two had started to fall into their roles, Dean still took any opportunity to make her babysitting job harder.

Alex turned back to Crowley, her nerves and the alcohol working together to bring a pout onto her face. "Can I go home yet?" She downed the rest of her drink before she slammed the glass down on the table, her pout maturing into a full-fledged frown. "It's been almost two months; I think Dean's going to fine without a leash."

Crowley lifted a finger to his lips, and Alex reluctantly fell quiet. No answer came, and when King of Hell turned back to his compatriots, Alex let her eyes drift across the bar's patrons in search of her charge. She caught a glimpse of plaid on its way towards the back door, and with a roll of her eyes, Alex pushed herself to her feet and followed.

The outside air was rank with exhaust, made worse by the putrid smell of alcohol and trash, but neither Dean nor the blonde waitress seemed to notice as they made their way across the street to the hotel where they had a room. Alex trailed behind them, eyes narrowing as she stepped out into the bright sunlight. The street was empty, surprisingly so for midday, but still she pulled her angel blade free from the back of her pants as she stepped forward, pebbles from the cracked pavement crunching beneath her feet.

Her phone rang, vibrating loudly within her pocket, and the ex-angel paused on far side of the road to answer it with a plummeting heart. "Hello, Sam."

"Alex? Where are you?" The sound of a book slamming shut partially drowned out the Winchester's voice, and Alex leaned up against a streetlight, twisting her weapon in her free hand.

"You know the rules," she chastised, exasperation lining her tone. "I shouldn't even be talking to you."

"It's been six weeks! You have to do something." Sam's voice grew quiet, and he added, "Have you spoken to Cas? I think — Alex, he's getting worse."

"Worse?" Concern sharpened Alex's voice, and she looked up and down the street to make sure there was no one to overhear as she hissed out, "What do you mean by worse?"

"It's his grace. I think it's fading, and he's fading with it." There was the shuffle of papers as Sam cleared away some of his work, and Alex could hear the deep frown in his voice. "He's been asking about you."

"I can't …" Alex ran a hand across her forehead, indecision battling in her soul. "All I can … shit. You think - do you think it's serious?"

"I don't know. He won't tell me, but from the way he sounds …" Sam trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish his thought, and after a second, he cleared his throat. "Look, Pip … I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do without your help. All I'm trying to do is help you and Dean, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. I understand." Alex looked back and forth across the street, and she dropped her voice into a low whisper. "Listen. All I can ... all I can tell you is that you should definitely not be tracing my call." She pausing, waiting for Sam catch on before she sighed, doing her best to stall so the Winchester could pinpoint her location. "Sam, I ... I just want to come home."

"Don't worry." Keys tapped on a keyboard, and in her mind, Alex could see the grin lighting up his face at the prospect of having a place. "We'll get you out of there. Just answer me this." His voice rose in anger, and Alex's eyes flickered close. "Why — why does Crowley have one of his demons parading inside of Dean? Huh? Why?"

"I don't know," she lied. "I don't know anything about that. You — you'd have to talk to Crowley. There's only so much information I can pass off in ignorance. Listen, Sam. I-I really need to go. You good?" Alex hung up the moment Sam voiced his confirmation, and she shoved the phone deep into her pocket as she entered the hotel. Her feet carried her up the stairs to their room, and her fist pounded on the wooden door as she cleared her throat, chin lifting as she prepared herself for confrontation. "Dean!"

"What?" The door was flung open, and Alex lifted her chin, unfazed by Dean's black eyes. "What do you want?"

"A chair." Alex motioned to where the wooden chair sat in the corner of the room. "If I'm going to spend the next hour sitting outside your door, I'd like to have something to spend it upon." She kept her eyes upwards, refusing to even give the Winchester the satisfaction of letting her gaze flicker down to his bare, toned chest.

She let her attention turn briefly to the woman in the bed before the flash of a chair in her periphery had her flinching away, barely avoiding the flying piece of furniture. "Hey!" she snapped, and her shoulders rolled back as she planted her hand against the door, refusing to let it shut. "Watch it, Winchester."

"Get out of here." The door slammed in her face, and Alex stuck out a tongue in a childish fashion before she stomped over to the fallen chair. Stupid Dean. Stupid demon. She placed the chair against the wall beside the door and took a seat, her body wincing internally as it recalled the familiar pain of a long night. _Castiel?_ Alex lifted her head up towards the ceiling. _Are you out there? Are you okay?_ She let out a small sigh as she settled down, arms wrapped protectively around her body as the human settled down for her watch. _I'm going to find you soon, I promise. As soon as I can, I'll come. I love you._

...

 **F** ootsteps echoed down the empty hallway, heavy and familiar, and Alex's eyes flickered open in time to see Crowley appear in the corner of her eye. "Hey." She pushed herself to her feet, dragging her hand through her hair as she rose to face the King of Hell. "You're late."

"I've been busy." Crowley's gaze flickered to the door before returning to her. "You're still here, hmm?"

"Yeah. Old habits die hard." Alex jerked a thumb towards the door. "They're still in there — at least from what I heard five minutes ago, so …" She rubbed her eyes as the demon pushed open the door, and her fingers came up to massage her sore shoulders as she listened to the noises of protest from the other room.

Crowley stopped dead in his tracks, and the air crackled with displeasure. " 'Whoa?' " he repeated. "What's going on here?"

"What does it look like?" came the response, the voice suave to overcome the original shock. Alex hung back, knowing the scene well: a naked Dean, an angry demon, a pointed conversation. And moment she stepped through that door, everything would immediately be directed at her.

"In my bed?" Crowley's voice rose in exasperation, and Alex rolled her eyes at Dean's unapologetic chuckle. "Jerk," the demon muttered, and the Winchester retorted with a well-timed, "Bitch."

"Get a room, you two." The floor creaked as a woman stepped closer to Crowley, and Alex caught the sight of a flash of blonde hair.

"Had a room," Crowley retorted, "until you two soiled it."

He stepped aside so the waitress could step through, her brown eyes sparkling with amusement. "Love you, Crowley."

"Love you more … sweetheart."

"It's Ann-Marie, jackass." The blonde waitress flounced past the King of Hell, who watched her go with a small shake of his head.

His eyes met with Alex's for a brief moment, and he muttered, "Knew that," before he turned back to Dean. With the woman gone, Alex stepped forward, filling in the doorway as the King of Hell moved into the room, and she watched as Dean pulled on a black shirt and got out of bed. "Pants?" The demon's line set into a thin line of frustration.

Dean rolled his eyes, but he crossed the room towards his bag. "What's the plan for the rest of the day?" Alex asked, turning her attention up onto Crowley as the Winchester began to get dressed. "Wait, wait, let me guess — more beer and karaoke?"

Dean chuckled, but a glance up towards the King of Hell revealed his displeasure. "We've actually got a bit of a competition today," he explained, and Dean paused from where he was buckling his belt, his interest piqued. "That is, if you're feeling up to it. You're welcome to watch," he added down to Alex, and the ex-angel frowned.

"Great. Thanks, Crowley." Alex stepped out of the room and, with a toss of her hair, she made her way down the hall and out through the exit. The air had a cold, crisp feel to it, a chilly reminder that winter was coming, and Alex suppressed a shiver as she crossed the street. The Black Spur stood across the street, dingy and forlorn, and the ex-angel dropped down onto the steps in front of it as she waited for her companions. Her phone hung heavily within her pocket, and Alex reached in to pull it out, her fingers dancing over the black screen as she formulated a text to her mate.

The presence of Crowley, however, had that idea immediately falling from her mind, and she hastily shoved her cell back into her pocket as she rose to her feet. She stepped aside as Crowley and Dean entered the bar, and after a beat, she followed.

The two demons had taken an interest the foosball table, and Alex eyed the two strangers that stood across from them - they were Crowley's companions from earlier without a doubt. "Best of three." The King of Hell gripped the pegs tightly. "Losers buy the beer."

"Lots of beer," Dean added, and he beckoned Alex over with a crooked finger. "Keep an eye on these two." He motioned to his competitors. "Make sure they don't cheat."

"I won't take my eyes off of them." Alex pulled up a chair and dropped down in it, gaze sweeping around the room. The bar was still bustling, and the voices drowned out the spinning metal rods and the clack of the plastic men with the worn ball.

"Girl seemed nice," she heard Crowley begin as the game progressed, and Alex heard the foosball crash into the opposing goal. "Slightly damaged. I could see the old you falling for that."

"Yeah, well, don't worry," came the response, Dean's voice terse with concentration. "She means nothing." He roughly turned his handle, sending the plastic men spinning in violent circles.

"Good, good. Cause you and I, we're rolling stones. No distractions — Lock it down!" Crowley suddenly snapped, his voice rising in frustration. "Lock it down!"

"Stop talking," Dean retorted, and Alex glanced over her shoulder to watch how his shoulders hunched, eyes locked onto the field below him.

"You're bodging it!" The foosball clattered into their goal, and Crowley's shoulders fell.

Dean spun the handle angrily. "Aw. If you'd shut up — keep talking —" He cut off, face twisted in frustration. "— I can't play the game." His eyes turned from the table up to the rest of the bar, and Alex followed his gaze over to the blonde waitress Ann Marie. She was arguing with a dark-haired man, trying to rip her hand out of his grasp, and Alex rose to her feet as the man suddenly pulled her after him out of the bar.

Dean stalked after them, pushing his way through the swinging door, and when Crowley followed with a curious hum, Alex did the same. Clearly some of the other patrons had the same idea, and Alex pushed her way through the gathering throng to stand at Crowley's side. "Get off of me!" The waitress was insisting, fists balled as she ripped herself from the stranger's grasp.

"Why are you doing this to me?" The man's face was twisted in anger, and Alex stepped forward, ready to intervene, but she was stopped by a shake of Crowley's head.

"You need to calm down." Ann Marie insisted, but the man barely heard her. "Stop it!"

"Hey." Dean pushed his way in between them, staring down at the man as he spoke back to the woman. "Is this him?"

"There a problem?" The man lifted his chin to try and match Dean's height, and Alex watched as the Winchester's fingers flexed before curling into a fist.

"Yeah. Are you Matt?" Dean didn't wait for an answer before he lunged forward, pinning the man up against the hood of the car. His fist connected with the man's nose, and Alex narrowed her eyes as blood poured forth. "You need to get away from here." Dean punched him again, and then again, throwing an arm back to knock Ann Marie away as the waitress tried to pull him off. "Don't try and contact her. In fact, don't even think about her. You understand me?"

When the man uttered out a blood-soaked plea, Alex slipped under the demon's arm, grey eyes narrowed, but a sharp word from Crowley had her freezing on the spot. "Don't." Crowley pointed back to his side, and the ex-angel's eyes flashed with indecision as she looked between the two demons. Dean dropped Matt back against the hood, and the ex-angel felt relief spark through her chest to see that his chest was still moving, even if ever so slightly. She slunk back to Crowley's side, teeth digging into her tongue to keep from snapping, and she felt the tips of her ears burn with embarrassment as several of the onlookers glanced her way. The Winchester stalked past her, shaking blood off of his hand, and Alex hesitated before a nod from the King of Hell had her reluctantly following.

"Hey." She caught Dean by the arm, gaze steeling as the Winchester turned around to face her. "What was that all about?"

"What was what?" Dean's eyes flickered back towards the door as Ann Marie reentered, and Alex squeezed his arm sharply to pull his attention back onto her. "What?"

"Dude. Remember? Punching the shit out of that weird guy? What the hell was that?" Dean yanked his arm free, and Alex crossed her arms in front of her as she glared up at the demon.

"That was me beating up some douche who didn't know respect," Dean retorted, and Alex watched as he spun around and stalked off towards the bar.

"Don't worry about him." Crowley stopped beside her, and Alex's fingers curled frustratedly into her sleeves. "A few good flings here and there will keep the Mark sated."

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck off." Alex stormed away, irritation pricking beneath her skin. It was one thing for Dean to kill demons, but to beat up a human like that? Her fingers itched, and she looked down in surprise to see that they had curled into tight fists. Six weeks since she and Dean had hunted down those demons. Six weeks since she had been able to kill.

The ex-angel immediately shook the thought away, shoving her hands into her pockets as she looked around. A darkly dressed demon was standing by the entrance, a newcomer Alex didn't recognize, and she followed his gaze across the room to rest on Dean. The man was a demo no doubt; the mix of surprise and anger on his face was evident of that.

She took a step towards him, ready for confrontation, but once again Crowley was there, a hand on her chest to keep her back. "Ah, ah," he warned with a click of his tongue. "Let Dean deal with him." The King of Hell turned his head to watch Dean Winchester, and Alex did the same, frowning at how the demon was eyeing the stranger carefully; somehow the look on his face made her gut twisted uncomfortably. However, she only gave Crowley a small nod before she backed off.

Dean Winchester rose to his feet and made his way towards the back door, and the stranger followed; with a low growl of frustration, Alex slipped into a chair. "Give me the strongest that you have." She tapped the bar roughly with a finger, turning her back as her charge disappeared. One more kill for Dean. Still zero for Alex.

...

(A few days before)  
 **Amherst Junction, Wisconsin**

 _ **T**_ _he Impala pulled up alongside a gas station just outside of town, and the engine died as Dean removed the key. "I'll be right back." The Winchester pulled a black hat down over his head as he threw open the door, and Alex frowned at the cold wind that cut through the cabin. "Stay here." He got out, and Alex watched him go, lips pursed together at the sight of the First Blade outlined against the back of his shirt. Without much of a second thought, she undid her seatbelt and jumped out of the car. Dean didn't look back, and, with a shrug, she followed after him._

 _A car roared past, the tires squealing against the concrete, and the ex-angel cast a glance behind her with a deep-set frown. Something prickled at the back of her neck, a feeling of unease, and the young girl looked around; over the past few weeks, she had come to know that feeling well._

 _Demon._

 _Not Dean; she knew his coldness well, a never-ceasing chill in the pit of her stomach. And not Crowley either. It was someone new, someone else with evil intent. Alex pulled out her phone as she moved across the parking lot, opening up chat to text the King of Hell._ Demons here. One of yours?

 _The response came almost immediately._ Sent to kill. Let Dean do his job. _After a second, Crowley added,_ Not a word.

 _Alex shoved her phone back into her pocket with a scowl, and she pushed her way into the gas station, brushing back her hair at the sudden rush of warm air. Her grey eyes swept the room in search of her charge, passing over the young, curly-haired attendant behind the counter. Dean stood at the far end of the shop, next to the magazine rack, and Alex's scowl redoubled at the sight of the porn. Of course: demon or not, some things never changed. "Hey." She crossed over to him, hands shoved into her pocket, and Dean looked up from beneath the brim of his baseball cap._

 _"I thought I told you to wait in the car." The Winchester folded the magazine and placed it back on the shelf with a frown in her direction._

 _"And I thought I told you you're not my boss." Alex looked around the rest of the desolate gas station with a shrug. "What happened to getting gas? We're supposed to be back in Beulah by the end of tonight."_

 _Her concern was met with a half-hearted shrug, and Dean reached for another magazine. "We'll get back there eventually," he promised, and his eyes flashed black as his gaze met hers._

 _Alex cast a look back at the attendant to make sure he wasn't watching, and her lips set into a frown. "Crowley —" A bell tinkled as a patron entered, and Alex cut herself off with a hiss. "We don't have time," she finished in a low murmur._

 _Dean scoffed, and with a roll of her eyes Alex stalked away; if they weren't in a hurry, then she was going to take the opportunity to find a meal for herself. She brushed past the newcomer, stifling a shudder as she did a double-take. Whoever that man was, he was definitely intended to be Dean's next target._

 _The demon walked past her without giving her a second look, and Alex, heeding Crowley's words, stepped aside and went on her way. She slipped off down the candy aisle, casting a glance back towards the two demons on her way. The stranger was meandering his way towards Dean, supposedly interested in the slushy machine, but Alex caught a flash of metal as a knife slipped down into his hands._

 _She frowned, but Dean didn't seem to notice, his back to the demon in question. He tucked the magazine under his arm and stepped away, moving back towards Alex, and she watched as his fingers rolled up the magazine just as the demon launched himself forward._

 _Dean spun around, a hand going up to block the knife as he jammed the magazine into the demon's chest, catching him by surprise. His fist connected with the stranger's face, and the being stumbled backwards. He let out a stuttered curse of rage, and Dean grabbed the demon by the jacket and threw him into the metal shelves, sending Alex jumping away as its contents went everywhere. "Watch it!" she hissed, and she took the moment to smooth down her rumpled shirt. The demon's knife flew from his hands, landing at Alex's feet, and the ex-angel casually kicked it away._

 _Dean didn't apologize as he whipped out the First Blade, and the demon screamed as the jawbone embedded itself into his chest. White light flashed in his eyes, but Dean didn't stop, plunging the weapon again and again into the demon's lifeless body._

 _"Dean." Alex cast a look over at the gas station attendant, lips set in a tight line at the look of fear upon the young man's face._ "Dean. _Stop. It's time to go." She circled around to put a hand on Dean's shoulder, not flinching when the Winchester reared up in surprise. "It's time to go," she repeated. "He's dead."_

 _Dean's eyes flickered black before he blinked, and he straightened up without a word. Alex watched as the Winchester stalked out of the gas station, and she grabbed a bag of chips off of the floor before she hurried after him. She paused beside the counter and dug out some change from her pocket, dropping it onto the counter with a half-apologetic smile. "You can, uh — you can keep the change." She looked back at the bleeding corpse, eyes dull and staring into nothing, and she added, "Sorry about that," before she followed Dean back out of the gas station and into the car._

...

 **T** he motel door swung open as Dean stepped into the room, his shirt stained red with blood. Alex peered up over her laptop, lips set in a tight line as she watched the Winchester shrug off his jacket. "You're back." The ex-angel half-closed her laptop as she uncrossed her legs, eyes narrowed as she was ignored, but she kept her voice as tempered as she could. "Where'd you go?"

"Out. Just out." Dean stripped off his shirt and tossed it away, and Alex rolled her eyes.

She opened her mouth to say more, but the Winchester had already grabbed his bag and was pushing his way into the bathroom. "Hey, don't use up all the hot water …." She trailed off as the door slammed behind him, and she leaned her head back to rest it against the headboard; it looked like she wasn't going to be showering that night.

Her eyes flickered over to the other end of the room to watch as Crowley entered through the door, and she dug her teeth into her bottom lip to keep herself from snapping. "Hey," she mumbled out, quickly moving to close the tabs that held all of Bobby's research. "You're back."

"I saw Dean come in." Crowley's eyes narrowed briefly as he glanced towards the bathroom door. "How is he?"

"Alive." Alex gave a half-shrug, and she burrowed further into the motel bed lest one of the men decide they wanted it for themselves. "That's all I was able to discern before he locked himself up in there." She jerked a thumb towards the bathroom with a scowl and another shrug. "Where were you? It was starting to get lonely here."

"I had some business to take care of." The demon's phone rang, and Crowley's eyes narrowed in confusion as he looked down at the caller ID. He pressed it up against his ear as he answered, and Alex's own head tipped in surprise when the King of Hell's lips pursed together. "Moose. Took you long enough." His dark eyes flickered over to Alex, and the ex-angel shrugged. "Your brother and I were beginning to wonder if you'd hit another dog. You know?"

Alex dropped her gaze down to her laptop, ears strained to hear Sam's reply, but without her grace, all she could hear were mumbled words. "Moose." Crowley cut him off, amusement in his voice. "Moose. I'm afraid you haven't allowed yourself to dream quite big enough here. Your brother is very much alive, courtesy of the Mark. And the only demonized soul inside of Dean is his and his alone. Wee bit more twisted, a little more mangled beyond human recognition, but I can assure you, all his. There, now, feel better."

The water stopped, and Alex pushed herself out of bed, wary of what exactly Sam would say to the King of Hell. "My pet?" she heard him say, surprise lining his voice. "He's my best friend, my partner in crime. They'll write songs about us, graphic novels. 'The Misadventures of Growley and Squirrel.' Dean Winchester completes me, and that's what makes you lose your chickens."

Something Sam said must have given him pause, because Alex felt his gaze turn onto her. "Alex?" he repeated. "So you've heard. Yes, she's here with me. Every dynamic duo needs a a female lead — comic relief, really." His voice darkened as he added, "Why? What has she told you?"

Alex turned away, feet carrying her towards the small inline fridge that sat beside the tv, and she kept her head down, praying that Sam kept his mouth shut. The door opened and closed, and Alex glanced up to find that Crowley had stepped outside.

The shower door opened, and Dean stepped out, his towel wrapped loosely around his waist. "I thought I heard Crowley."

"You did. He went back down to the bar." Alex dug a sweatshirt out of her bag. "I'm guessing that's where you're off to once you're dressed." She heard Dean's grunt of agreement, and she pulled on the thick, warm over-shirt. "Great. I'll come with."

"You don't have to. Crowley removed that damn leash two weeks ago."

"No," Alex corrected crossly, "he lengthened it to a hundred feet, give or take. And I'm coming with because my one fucking job is to keep an eye on you. I don't know what the hell you did to that guy who was tailing you, but I'm supposed to make sure that doesn't happen to civilians."

She expected Dean to snap, but no reply came. Unsure what else to do, the ex-angel shoved her phone into her pockets and stepped outside. She made her way down the hall and out into the street, shivering slightly at the chill in the air. With a glance over towards the Black Spur, she pulled out her phone and took a seat down on the curb.

The ex-angel dialed Castiel's number and pressed the screen up against her ear, listening as it rung. Her foot tapped on the concrete as she waited, impatient, and when the other end clicked, she leaned forward. "Cas?"

Her inquiry was met with a dry cough, and Alex's eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Alex?" Castiel cleared his throat, trying to chase away his illness, but his voice still sounded weak. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me."Alex ducked her head, trying to hide the smile at the sound of his voice. "I'm not supposed to be talking to you, I just … I missed you. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." The seraph's response was shaken by another stifled cough.

Alex frowned, but when Castiel made no efforts to correct his lie, she prompted, "Sam said that your grace was burning away. Don't say it's not," she added when a noise of protest rumbled in his throat. "You don't sound good at all. I — I promise you, I'll be there as soon as I can. Once I can get away from here …" She trailed off with a sigh. "What are you up to? Getting some rest, I hope."

"I'm in Michigan. There are two rogue angels who refuse to return to heaven. They killed the angel who tried to bring them back home."

"Oh." Alex's face darkened. "Be careful — you're not going after them alone, are you?" She leaned forward, reaching down to scoop up a small dark pebble before she tossed it further into the street as she waited for an answer.

"No. I'm here with Hannah. You remember her, I'm sure."

"Uh, yeah. She's the one who was always watching Ashiel." Alex's eyes narrowed, and her voice took on a half-teasing tone. "She's smart. And pretty. If she tries to kiss you, I'll kill her."

Castiel chuckled, but it seemed hesitant, unsure of how serious the young hunter was being. It faded with another cough. "It's Crowley that is keeping you where you are, isn't it?" he finally asked. "I … I know you can't say anything, but I talked with Sam. He saw you and Dean murder a man on a security tape in Wisconsin."

" _I_ didn't murder anyone," Alex corrected sharply. "Strict hands-off policy by Crowley. And besides, it was a demon who Dean killed. Crowley —" She cut off as Dean Winchester brushed past her, giving her a sidelong look as he crossed the street. "Never mind. Listen, I should get going. I love you, alright?"

"Alright. I love you too. Hopefully, I'll see you soon."

"Soon can't come soon enough." Alex sighed as she hung up, and the ex-angel reluctantly pushed herself to her feet as she followed Dean across the road and into the club.

The air was thick and slimy with alcohol and sweat, and Alex wrinkled her nose at the sudden and pungent odor. As her eyes adjusted to the darkened interior, they came to rest on the stout, suited figure of the King of Hell, who sat by himself at the bar. He turned at their entrance, and a crooked finger beckoned Alex over.

The hunter crossed the room and hesitantly slid into the seat beside the demon, fingers drumming nervously on the wooden bar as she lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. "Hey," she greeted, and the steadiness of her voice quelled her nervousness. "What did Sam want?"

"The usual. He's dead set on getting his brother back. Seemed to think that I had one of my men possessing him."

"Yeah, I heard that part." Alex waved the bartender over before she added, "Okay? What else?"

"And he's apparently figured out that I've been sending Abaddon's old goons after Dean. Which means I need to come clean before Dean hears it from less reliable sources." His gaze hardened, and he added, "And Sam mentioned that he's on his way. Actually, he mentioned Beulah specifically by name."

Alex gave a half-hearted shrug, fingers closing around the cold glass of her newly-poured drink. "Huh. I spoke to him yesterday," she admitted. "Assbag must have traced my call." She took a sip of the fiery liquid, hoping her insult to Sam's name would quench however much of the King's anger that the lie did not. "And no, don't worry. I haven't told Dean anything about the demons you sent him — I didn't even know they were Abaddon's until you mentioned it."

"Hm." The demon's grunt sounded less than convinced, but he let the subject go. "And how much have you spoken to that playtoy of yours?"

" _Castiel_." The ex-angel's grip tightened around her glass. "And he's not doing well, not with his grace burning away." She looked up, eyes hardening as she held the King of Hell's gaze. "If things get worse, I'm going to him. Take my soul if you want, but I'm not going to let him die alone."

She lifted her chin, waiting for a response, but Crowley merely shrugged. "And I suppose that your choice." He turned away to wave Dean over to him, leaving Alex to watch him with a frown, unsure of his answer; was that affirmation or a thinly-veiled threat? "Dean. Sit down." The King of Hell motioned to the seat beside him, and Alex took another sip of her drink as the Winchester sat down.

"What's up?" Dean waved the bartender over, pointing to the bar in front of him, and an open beer was placed in his hands. His gaze flickered between Alex and Crowley, but the young hunter barely took notice, her mind still mulling over Crowley's comment.

"I've got something to confess." The King of Hell turned his brown eyes onto Dean, and the Winchester cocked an eyebrow. "You're probably aware that certain members of Abaddon's crew have put you at the top of their list."

"Yeah." Dean took a swig of his drink with a cocky grin. "They just can't accept that the queen is dead and that I was the one who killed her."

"Something like that. You see," Crowley began, "that's not exactly true. You and I, we had most of Abaddon's most loyal sorted out within the month. What you've been dealing with are the groupies that defected back to me. I told them that, if they slay you, they get back into my good graces."

Dean set down his beer, his voice growing sharp as he looked between Alex and the King of Hell. "You sent those demons to kill me?"

"To keep you sharp," Crowley corrected.

"Really?"

The King frowned at Dean's retort. "If it wasn't for me throwing demon chum your way, what do you think would've happened?" he snapped. "The Mark needs to be sated. Otherwise —"

"Otherwise, I turn into a demon," Dean finished. "Yeah, yeah. I sort of got that six weeks ago." He brought his beer back up to his lips, and Alex chuckled under her breath at his quip.

Crowley shrugged, unaffected by the Winchester's words. "Just trying to help."

"You _lied_."

"Who do you think you're talking to here?" Crowley snorted in amusement at Dean's innocent insistence. "Does the tin man have a sheet-metal willy? Of course I lied." Alex pulled a face at the image described, but Dean just rose to his feet with a shake of his head.

"Hey." Crowley's voice grew sharp with authority as he reached out to stop the Winchester. "Sit down. Sit." Dean only stared, and the demon shook his head. "I needed to keep you sharp for our future," he explained, "about which we need to talk."

"Our future?" Dean repeated, disbelief lining his voice.

"Our professional future. How to put this?" Crowley's lips pursed tightly together. "If I have to spend one more night in this fetid petri dish of broken dreams and B.O., I will cut off my own face."

"Amen," Alex put in, leaning forward so she could look around the King of Hell. "This place fucking sucks, Dean. We've been in this particular bar for over a _week_. I'm done. I'm tired. _Hell_ is better than this pit."

Dean sank back down in this his chair, slamming his beer bottle onto the counter. "I don't know what you're talking about. Cause I'm good." His arms spread wide as he gestured the crowd around him before he swiped a hand through his hair, grown long from his time away from home. "Hell, I'm great."

"Really?" Crowley's eyebrow cocked in surprise. "How many suicide wings can you eat? How many one-hit wonders can you karaoke to death?"

Dean leaned forward, and his green eyes flashed angrily. "Okay, see, the deal was we howl at the moon — no time stamp, no expiration date."

"We've howled. We've bayed." Crowley shook his head, and Alex echoed his exasperation. "We've done extraordinary things to triplets, all of which have been massively entertaining. I will treasure our Flickr album forever. But now it's time for us to accept what we are and go back to work."

"Pass." Dean started to rise to his feet, but Crowley reached out, a hand wrapping around his wrist in an iron grasp.

"Think of it — the King of Hell, Dean Winchester at his side. Together we rule. Together we create the perfect hell. And all of this that's bloomed between us never ends. We're not ending the party. We're just moving it. Out with the club circuit, in with the stadium tour." Dean hesitated, and after a moment of silence, Crowley added, "Oh. Did I forget to mention I spoke with Moose earlier?"

"What?"

"Yes. Uh, apparently, he's been tracking us for some time now. No thanks to someone." His words were accompanied by a glance over at Alex, but the young hunter merely rolled her eyes. "He got my text from the cell of that demon that you stabbed in blah ,blah, blah." Crowley waved the details off. "It was — words were spoken — emotions. I realize, in retrospect, perhaps too many words, too many emotions."

"He traced the cell."

"He already knew our location." Crowley's voice was lined with frustration, and Alex slammed down the rest of her drink. "But, yes. I guess he'll be here by morning — the latest."

"You sold me out." Dean's eyes flashed black as he glared over at Alex, and the ex-angel steadily held his gaze before it turned back up to Crowley. "Well, that's just lovely."

The King of Hell shook his head at Dean's outrage. "I don't know what's going on with you. I don't. But I've had just about enough of it. Sold you out? Try doing you a favor. Everything I've done for you for the past six months — the Mark, the First Blade, midwifing you back to life, offering you a seat by my side — has been a favor, a gift, whether you see it or you don't." His eyes narrowed when Dean only scoffed, and he looked down at Alex. "Take Alex and take the night off. Decide. You know where to find me."

Dean scoffed again, this time loudly as he rose to his feet, and Alex pushed herself off of the stool, ready to follow the Winchester wherever he might go. She took a step towards him, but Crowley reached out, catching her by the arm. "You're not off the hook," he warned, and for a moment, his voice took on a dark, sinister tone. "I know what you told Sam."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Alex ripped herself free from his hold. "I do have a question, though. In this hell that you're planning — you, Dean your trusted second in command — where do I fit in?"

Crowley chuckled, and his glass clinked against his teeth as he took a sip. "You fit in wherever I tell you to. I don't know what fantasies of authority Lucifer instilled in that head of yours, but to all of these demons here, you're nothing more than pre-diabolic fodder."

Alex's eyes narrowed as she searched Crowley's face for any sign of deception, but it held none. With a snort, she shoved her hands into her pockets and turned to go. "I'm looking forward to gutting you," she reminded before she made her way after Dean.

She heard Crowley chuckle, his ice chinking against his glass. "Love you, too, kitten." His voice faded as Alex stepped outside, swallowed up by the clamor of the patrons, and without a glance backwards, the young hunter made her way after Dean.

...

 **T** he Impala roared off down the street, engine revving as it sped past a darkened corn field. Alex sat in the front seat, her attention buried in her laptop as Dean drove them down the highway, their destination still unknown. He hadn't spoken since leaving the Black Spur, and despite Alex's multiple attempts at starting a conversation, eventually silence had prevailed. The ex-angel chanced a look over at the clock; they had been driving for over an hour, the car barreling down cold, deserted highways with no end in sight, and her stomach was starting to twist from the bumps and holes in the worn pavement. "Dean." Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke, and she cleared her throat to strengthen it. "Where are we going?"

Dean didn't answer, and Alex frowned. "What?" she snapped. "What's your problem, you asshat? Are you mad at me?"

Dean still didn't respond, and the young hunter slammed her laptop shut in frustration. She opened her mouth, but the ringing of her phone had her pausing in confusion. The screen on Dean's cell, laying on the seat between them, lit up to display the name 'Sam,' and Alex's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

The demon snatched up the phone, and Alex watched the frown that darkened his face before he finally answered. "I left you an open tab at the bar," he announced. "Knock yourself out." Whatever response he got, it wasn't the one he was expecting, because surprise flashed momentarily across his face before it hardened once again. "And who is this?" He paused, listening, before his gaze flickered over to Alex. "On my brother's phone?"

"What's going on?" Alex spoke the words aloud, uncaring of who on the other line heard. "Where's Sam?"

Dean's lips twitched in displeasure at her outburst, but he refused to answer her question. "Is he dead?" he asked the person on the other line before adding after a moment, "And how do I know he's still alive?"

"Dean." Alex reached out to snatch the phone out of Dean's hand, putting it on speaker phone and tossing it onto the dash between them. "Who the hell is this?" she snapped.

"Who the hell are you?" came the cold, foreign response. A noise came from the other end, and the voice grew sharp. "Speak." No response came, and Alex's lips twitched at the sound of a fist pounding against flesh. Sam cried out in alarm, and the voice was back. "Proof of life."

"Dean!" Sam's yell was faintly heard, and Alex leaned forward in her seat.

"What do you want?" she snapped. "Seriously," she added to Dean. "Who the hell is this guy?"

"The old barn off of Highway 63 and Summit. As long as you show up where I tell you to show up, your brother will be just fine."

"No, you listen to me." Dean snatched up the phone, taking it off speaker and pressing it up against his ear. "There's no trade. There's no meet-up." He ignored Alex's surprise and indignation as he continued, "There's no nothing — except the one hundred percent guarantee that, somewhere down the road, I will find you, and I will kill you. I told him to let me go. So whatever jam he's in now, that's his problem."

There was a response, and Alex leaned close enough to hear, "I'll be sure to pass that on to him as I'm slitting his throat."

Dean only scoffed, unperturbed by the threat. "Yeah, you do that, cause he knows me. And he knows damn sure that if I am one thing, I am a man of my word." He hung up and tossed the phone back onto the dash, and Alex stared at him, jaw agape. "What?"

"What?" Alex repeated scornfully. "You — you're just going to drive away? Just like that?"

"Like I said. He's not my problem anymore." Dean shot her a glance as the ex-angel undid her seatbelt and shoved her laptop into her bag. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going after Sam." Alex's grey eyes flashed, and she lifted her head to meet Dean's black gaze. "You might not be capable of caring about him, but I still am. He's my charge, and family or not, it's my job to take care of him." She shoved her phone in alongside her computer before she wrapped her hand around the door handle. "Let me out."

"You can't go outside of a hundred feet from me," Dean reminded, but the car slowed down nevertheless. "You won't make it very far."

"I can put up with the pain." Alex threw open the door, and she stepped out onto the black pavement below. "I guess we'll see who breaks first. See you around." She slammed the door behind her, and the Impala sped off down the road.

Alex slung her backpack over her shoulder and started off in the opposite direction. She had barely gotten fifteen feet before she felt the leash tighten, a dark, choking feeling around her lungs. It was followed immediately by pain as she stepped outside of her limits, and the ex-angel grit her teeth at the shock that ran up her spine. Black spots flashed in front of her eyes, but she pushed herself onwards, one painful step in front of another. The world began to spin, her body growing weary under the continual strain, but Alex refused to stop. Sam was in trouble, and she needed to find him.

If only she had her wings.

Suddenly, the pain increased tenfold, a throbbing agony that shook her bones, and Alex's legs wobbled beneath her. She fell to her knees, barely catching herself on the rough pavement with a gasp of surprise. Footsteps echoed through the night air, coming to stop in front of her, but the young hunter didn't need to look up to know who it was. "Where are you going?"

Alex didn't answer, and she felt dark energy swirl around her, forcing her up so she was kneeling at the King of Hell's feet. "Fuck off," she gasped, and she grit her teeth to find the strength to add, "I'm going to find Sam."

"Sam, huh?" A hand came to rest on her head, finger tapping thoughtfully in her hair. "And why, pray tell, are you going to do that?" The hand slipped under her chin, lifting her head so Alex could look Crowley in the eyes. "Your job is Dean. Which means you stay with Dean until I say otherwise."

"Sam's in trouble." Despite the pain, Alex forced herself to her feet, jaw clenched at the electricity running up and down her spine. "Someone's going to kill him if I don't get there first. Dean — it was Dean's choice not to come with me, so go talk with him." Her eyes flashed. "I'm his babysitter, so what I say goes."

"Perhaps. But you're the bottom in this relationship. And if I tell you to stay with Dean, then you _stay with Dean_." Pain gripped Alex at his words, stronger and hotter than ever, and the ground pitched beneath her feet. The pavement collided with her shoulder as the ex-angel fell, and she grunted as the air was crushed from her lungs. "You think this is bad?" Crowley's voice pierced through the plugged ringing in her hears. "Wait until you get to hell, little mouse. Keep this attitude up, you'll be there before you know it."

The world spun, vanishing into a crushing blackness, and then the pain was gone. The hard pavement was replaced by the cool leather of the Impala's backseat, and Alex let her forehead press into the slick material, her shoulders slumping back. The car jolted forward, the demon no longer hindered by the leash, and Alex squeezed her eyes shut as they sped further and further away from Sam.


	3. Reichenbach

**November 12th, 2014**  
 **Langton, North Dakota**

 **T** he room vibrated with the music, the hazy air shimmering with each pulse of the beat. Alex sat in the corner, light grey eyes glowing in the dim light. The strip club was half empty, with only a few patrons milling around the rundown bar, and Alex stifled a harsh cough when a man with a cigarette brushed by. Her eyes blinked at the acrid sting before once again settling on her charge.

Dean sat down at the front of the stage, eyes trained on the brunette in front of him, but Alex paid both the woman and the pole little attention. They had pulled into town around noon, and Dean had made a beeline for the doors before Alex could even think about stopping him.

That had been almost forty minutes ago. Now, Alex was almost at her wits end. She leaned back in her seat as a half-naked woman walked by, eyes narrowing in disgust at the baseness of the club. This was a den for demons. Not for angels.

"No touching." The voice had Alex looking back towards Dean. The demon's hand was extended, batted away by the dancer, and his eyes flashed in surprise. "House rules."

"You sure about that?" Dean reached into his wallet and pulled out a bill, shaking it enticingly before placing it on the stage. He watched the woman, eyes unblinking as a smirk curled his lips upwards. "Go ahead," he dared. "Pick it up."

"And we're done." Disgust filled the woman's voice, and she turned to go, but Dean was quicker.

His hand wrapped around her slim wrist, pulling her back. "Hey, hey, hey," he protested smoothly. "Song's not over, sweetheart."

Alex pushed herself to her feet, ready to intervene, but the security guard was there first, harshly pulling Dean away with a dark frown. "Time to go, jerkwad," he announced, and Alex pushed her way past one of the patrons on her way down to the impending skirmish.

The dancer screamed as Dean lashed out, breaking the guard's nose and sending him stumbling back. Panic rushed through the club, spreading out like a tidal wave, and Alex ducked in between two fleeing strippers to make her way towards the demon. "Code red, Crowley," she muttered, and then she lifted her voice above the chaos. "Dean!"

The Winchester didn't stop his brutal assault, and the ex-angel reached out, grabbing a fist that was coming down to land another blow. She grunted under the impact, her arm aching at the strain to hold back the demon's attack, but her actions were enough to at least give Dean pause, and he scowled down at her. "Get out of the way." He dropped the near-unconscious man, and Alex watched with a frown as he hit the tile floor with a thud.

"Stop it, you child." Alex let go when Dean ripped himself free of her hold, and she slipped forward, positioning herself between the demon and the bouncer. "He's down, so that's enough." She watched how his fist tightened at his side, and she narrowed her eyes, wary at the possibility of another attack. "I think it's time for you and I to leave," she finished, chin lifted defiantly as she held Dean's black glare.

She half-expected retaliation, but the demon merely turned up his nose and stalked away. Alex followed, not bothering to glance back at the bloody scene behind her. The door to the club closed behind her, and the ex-angel blinked at the sharp, cold sunlight. "Move, grandpa." A teenage boy brushed past Dean, and his friends jeered alongside him.

Alex put a hand on Dean's arm, jaw set tightly. "Don't," she warned as she felt the demon's bicep contract beneath her fingers.

"Kids." Crowley appeared before them, eyes following the teenagers as the disappeared around the corner. "Am I right? In my day, we respected our elders. Of course," he mused, "back then, anyone over thirty was ancient. Now forty years olds are still living with mommy, lying on OkCupid, and taking pictures of their food."

"What do you want, Crowley?" Dean's voice was flat, unamused at the King of Hell's sudden contemplations.

"A chat." Crowley's gaze turned down onto Alex, and the ex-angel gave a small, curt nod. "We need to talk about your … anger management issues."

Dean followed the demon's eyes down onto Alex, and his face darkened in a scowl. "What? So now you've been snitching on me?"

"He's my boss," Alex retorted coldly. "You're just my hobby." She nodded towards Crowley, adding, "There's a bar two blocks down that we passed on the way in. I doubt we'd be welcome back there." She jerked a thumb towards the club behind them, and Crowley hummed in understanding.

"Fine." With a snap of his fingers, darkness surrounded them, and the ground pitched beneath the ex-angel's feet. When it returned, it was the smooth tile floor of a bar, and Alex's pupils dilated to let in the dim light. Dean and Crowley were already seated on their stools, and Alex cast a look around the clean establishment as she sat down next to the King of Hell; the wood beneath her hands was smooth and polished, free from grime; a welcome change from the past string of their recent stops.

"Two shots here." Dean waved over the bartender before pointing to Crowley. "He'll have something fancy, with your tiniest umbrella."

"So," Crowley began, ignoring the Winchester's deriding joke, "how have you been feeling? On edge? Pent-up? Unfulfilled?"

Dean scoffed, green eyes rolling at the King of Hell's question. "You sound like a Viagra commercial," he retorted. "You know that, right?"

Alex watched as Crowley's lips pursed. "This isn't about … little Dean. It's about the Mark." His eyes flicked down towards Dean's forearm, to where the Mark lay, shielded by his dark jacket. "It changed you."

Dean blinked, and blackness slid over his eyes. "I've noticed." Alex snorted, amused by the Winchester's quip, and his eyes flashed back to green.

"And I know you want to keep the party going," Crowley continued, ignoring the interruption. "You want to have fun, fun, fun till daddy takes the black eyes away. The fact is … you need to kill now. Not want to, not choose to — _need_ to."

Glass clinked as the bartender handed them their drinks with a quiet, "There you go." He slid Crowley's drink over to him, and the King of Hell frowned at the small, pink umbrella that decorated his drink.

"Face it, darling." The demon turned back to Dean as his fingers closed around his glass. "You're an addict. Death is your drug. And you're gonna spend the rest of your life chasing that dragon."

"So?" Dean slammed down one of his shots, his lack of denial as telling as any sort of confirmation.

"So … I'm here to facilitate."

"You want me to kill for you." Dean's voice was flat, and he reached for his other shot, but Alex was faster, lifting it to her lips before the Winchester could stop her. She felt his glare upon her cheek, and she slid the empty glass back over to him with a half-suppressed smirk.

"I want you to kill for _us_." Crowley's words drew Dean's attention back onto him. "Look … you're going to snap eventually. The anger, the bloodlust is gonna build up in you until you can't take it anymore, and then …" He trailed off, letting his companion fill in the blank. "So, the question is, do you want to spike a civilian or someone who has it coming?"

Silence followed his words, and Dean drummed his fingers on the bar for a moment before he begrudgingly asked, "Like who?"

"Like Mindy Morris. Caring mother … loving wife … cheating trollop. After her husband Lester discovered Mindy's liaison amoureuse, heated words were exchanged. In the end, Mindy wanted a divorce … and fifty percent of everything. But Lester —"

"Lester would rather give up his soul than half his junk," Dean finished in disgust.

Crowley gave a shrug, and he lifted his fruity drink to his lips. "We live in a very materialistic world. Mindy's gonna die one way or another. Why not take the job — feed the beast?"

"Fine." Dean's jaw set, his frustration clear, but he gave in to Crowley's offer. "One-time deal." He pushed himself to his feet, running a hand through his hair. "Where is she?"

"Roosevelt, Montana. I'll have one of my men send you the address. Oh, and one more thing." Crowley's eyes sparkled, and Alex shifted in her seat, curious as to what else could have caught the demon's interest. "As you probably know, your brother has been looking for our scent for months. I, of course, had my demons stop dealing with him, but he's found a loophole. He's the one who told Lester to summon one of my men, and he's the one who was too late to stop Lester from making that deal."

"So?"

"So keep your head up. Who knows where that plaid-ridden neanderthal might be lurking." Crowley took a sip of his drink as Dean stalked away, and Alex rose to her feet, ready to follow. "Alex." The King of Hell turned to face her, and Alex paused as his voice lowered so Dean couldn't hear. "Make sure it gets done."

"Yes, sir." Alex gave a curt, professional dip of her head, and when Crowley turned away, she made her way out of the bar and after her charge.

...

 **Roosevelt, Montana**

 **T** he sun had disappeared beneath the horizon when the Impala finally pulled up alongside the softly lit one story rambler. A red sedan was parked in the driveway, and Alex could make out a shape of a woman through the bright kitchen window. Her eyes followed it as they rolled past, and the engine died as Dean parked the car two houses down. "Alright, here's the plan." Dean threw open the door and got out, and Alex followed, tucking her gun into her pants as she half-listened to the Winchester's idea. "Stay behind me, let me do all the work."

"Yeah," Alex retorted, "I thought that was the plan we already made." She watched as Dean snorted, and she added scathingly, "But thanks for reminding me; I'd almost forgotten."

"Shut up."

Alex shoved her phone deep into her pocket as she followed Dean across the dark lawn. The kitchen light cast warm shadows on the ground, and Alex paused at the Winchester's side to watch the blonde, busty woman move between the stove and the countertop. The woman didn't seem to notice the two peering in through the glass, and Alex reached back to draw her gun. "Whenever you're ready," she ordered. "I'll keep an eye out for any trouble from the neighbors."

Dean grunted out his agreement, hand coming up to reach for his weapon, but the flashing of approaching headlights had both hunters pausing. A silver car rolled to a stop across the seat, and, while the engine died, the passenger stayed inside, causing Alex to cast Dean a small frown of confusion.

The demon beside her had let go of the First Blade, and he studied the car with a scowl before he stalked towards it, their target forgotten. Alex hurried after him as Dean crossed the street and threw open the passenger side door, disappearing into the car. The ex-angel hurriedly did the same, sliding into the backseat with balled fists as the driver let out an exclamation of surprise. "Let me guess," Dean began. "Lester?"

"I …" The man looked between Alex, his brown eyes stretched wide. "Who are you?"

"Who do you think?" Dean blinked, and even in the darkness Alex could see the darkness sliding over his irises.

Lester's own eyes stretched wide as he let out a noise of surprise and sudden understanding. "Ohh. You — you're that — you're here to —" He looked back at Alex, his eyes searching hers for any sign of the same inky blackness. "Are you one, too?"

"No. I'm an —" Alex cut herself off before she corrected, "I'm human. And you … what the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, my contact …" Lester cleared his throat, casting a glance towards the house as he hesitated. "Yeah, he, uh — he told me that, uh, this was happening, so I just wanted to come down and make sure it gets done right."

"Hey, I, uh, I'm no expert here, but … " Alex leaned forward, exchanging a frustrated glance with Dean, "But murder lesson number one? You don't want to be anywhere nearby when the hitman comes to kill your wife, alright? Go to a bar. Visit a friend. It's called an alibi."

"Yeah, I know what an alibi is," Lester retorted hotly, and his fingers came up to run down the sides of his mustache. "I watch 'Franklin & Bash.' "

"Great," Alex muttered, and Dean echoed her with a, "Super," before adding, "Listen, you sold your soul for this crap, so —"

"It's not crap." Lester jumped to cut Dean off, and the demon's eyes narrowed. "It's my life. And she flushed it down the toilet."

"Les … I'm gonna say something to you." Dean's fingers closed around the handle of the First Blade, and Alex placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head when he shot her a glance. "I need you to really listen to me." The demon's hand pulled away, and he turned in his seat to better face the man. "You're a loser. Your lady in there — she's a North Dakota eight. You're a four and a half. Tops. Now, I don't blame her for stepping out — especially if she found you were messing around first."

"No. Oh, no. I-I wasn't …" Lester trailed off, his face flushing slightly. "Uh — how do you know?"

"Well, you just got that, uh, pervy 'I'd do anything to nail my secretary' look," Dean said, and Alex hummed out her agreement.

"Oh. No. T-That's — it's different when guys do it." Lester's face flushed again, and Alex drummed her fingers on the seat, drawing his attention onto her.

"Really?" she asked, and her grey eyes flashed in the darkness, amused at the weak plea. "Because last I checked, that, uh, was total bullshit." She glanced over at Dean. "Back me up here."

"No, it — it's science," Lester insisted. "Men aren't built for monogamy … because evolution. We're — we're — we're programmed, you know, to — to spread our seed—" He cut off in surprise as Dean's fist flashed out, and his head jerked back at the force of the blow. "Ow!"

"Good one." Alex leaned back in her seat, giving Dean a quick nod.

"Like I said," Dean snapped. "Loser with a capital 'L,' rhymes with 'you suck.' "

"Y-Yeah, well, you're a punk-ass demon!" Lester's voice rose angrily, and when his hand pulled away from his nose, it was red with blood. "And you work for me now! So get in there and do your job, you freak!"

His words struck a chord, and Dean's eyes narrowed into chips of emerald ice. "And what are you gonna do?" he challenged "You gonna watch, huh? Is that what you like to do, Lester? Watch? Well watch this." The First Blade plunged into the man's chest, and Alex reached forward, trying to push Dean away, but her reaction was half-hearted; the man was already dead.

"You idiot." Alex cast a disgusted look down at the corpse before she scowled over at Dean. "We were supposed to kill Mindy, not this asshole!"

"He deserved it." Dean pushed his way out of the car, and Alex followed, her anger not dispersing despite the truth in his words.

"Yeah, but he wasn't our target! Now the deal's forfeit, and we don't get his soul!" Alex shot a glance back towards the house where Mindy was, unaware of the events transpiring outside. "Now what do we do about her?"

"We walk away." Dean stalked off towards the car, but Alex stood her ground, fists clenched.

"We're here to do our job, Dean." Her voice grew sharp, and Dean turned back to look at her. "If you're not going to do it, then I'll have to."

"Fine." Dean's eyes flickered black. "Then go take care of it."

Alex studied his face, surprised by the dare that sat in his gaze. "You're really turning down the opportunity to kill?" she jeered. "Is that a hint of morality that I hear?" Dean's only answer was a scowl, and the angel mimicked it before she forced a disinterested shrug. "Fine." She reached into her jeans to pull out her gun "I promised Crowley that I'd get the job done, so if you don't want to, then that's your loss. Go wait in the car."

She stalked away, not bothering to glance behind her to see if the Winchester was following. _Stupid Winchester. This_ was his _job, and he's too stubborn to even do it_.Her canvas shoes carried her across the lawn and up to the porch, and the angel scowled darkly as she heard the Impala door slam shut. _Why can't he see we're were just trying to help?_ The door opened easily beneath her touch, the hinges creaking in slight protest as she slipped into the home. The warm smell of home-cooking reached her nose, and the ex-angel drew in a deep breath as she pulled back the hammer on her Colt. _She's dead meat anyways. Better I put her out of her misery now._

"Lester?" The exasperated voice came from the kitchen, and Alex crossed the hall in three quick steps. "Is that you? I told you not to —" Mindy's eyes stretched wide at the sight of the hunter, and she took a step back, eyes focused on the gun. "You —"

Alex lifted her gun, finger closing around the trigger in one swift motion. The bullet left the chamber with a bang, and the ex-angel was turning away before the body even hit the ground. _Cleaning up his messes once again. Typical._ She tucked her weapon back into her jeans as she stepped out of the house, pausing only long enough to close the door behind her before she crossed the street and slide into the car. "There. Happy?" Alex reached for her seatbelt as the Impala roared to life. "You know, I'm not the one who needs to kill to be under control."

"And I'm not the one who's Crowley's bitch." Alex felt Dean's gaze come to rest on the side of her face, and she purposefully kept her eyes trained on the road before them. "But yeah. I'm happy." He reached over to turn up the music, and Alex rolled her eyes as the bass drowned out their conversation.

...

 **Beulah, North Dakota**

 **A** lex kicked the Impala door closed behind her, tugging her sweatshirt tighter around her thin frame as she made her way across the street. A bar stood in front of them, and, unlike the Black Spur across town, the was outside pleasant and unassuming, but the chill that prickled along her skin was evidence enough for the ex-angel to know what lay inside. She fell in step behind Dean as they entered, and she felt her angel blade shift slightly from where it rested at her side. There were voices, unrecognizable, and the ex-angel frowned as they made their way towards its source.

Two demons stood in the room, in the middle of some sort of presentation, and Alex lifted an eyebrow at the look of boredom that was written across the face of Crowley, who sat in the corner booth. He rose to his feet at their entrance, thankful and eager for their distraction. "Dean!" The demons parted as the Crowley sauntered forward. "How did it go?"

"Fine. Fine." Dean gave a shrug. "Uh … he's dead, and you're right. I — I feel amazing."

Crowley nodded, but something in Dean's words gave him pause. " 'He?' " he repeated, and his gaze flickered down to Alex.

"He," Alex confirmed with a scowl. "As in Lester."

"The _client_?" Crowley's mouth was agape as he turned back to Dean, and anger twisted his voice. "You killed the _client_?"

"Does it matter?" Dean shrugged again, unperturbed by the King of Hell's rage. "He was a douche. Now he's a dead douche."

"Of course it matters!" The King of Hell almost spluttered the words, and his cheeks flushed red with fury. "The deal was one dead wife for one soul. The wife's not dead, I don't get the soul. It's math."

"Well, the wife _is_ dead if that helps at all," Alex put in, and she ignored Dean's scoff. "So, I mean, the job did get done. No thanks to you." She shot the Winchester a dark glare. "Some demon he is — he can't even off one whore."

"And you still call yourself an angel," Dean shot back. "Pathetic."

"You." Crowley's finger pointed in Alex's direction, and the ex-angel lifted her head as she purposefully ignored the Winchester's retort. "Consider yourself promoted. As for you …" His eyes flickered back to Dean, but the demon had already turned to go. "Hey!" he snapped, and Alex shifted out of the way as the King of Hell reached forward to stop the Winchester. "Don't turn your back on me!"

Dean spun back around, his eyes coal black, and he shoved Crowley away, sending him sprawling across the floor. Alex jumped away as he hit the ground at her feet, and she turned onto Dean with narrowed grey eyes. "Hey!" she snapped. "What's your problem, you asshole?" Her head snapped over to one of Crowley's henchmen, lips pursed as she searched for the source of a low chuckle. "Is something funny?"

The two demons quickly shook their head, and Crowley pushed himself to his feet, brushing the dust off of his suit to regain some of his composure. "Good." He glared over at Dean, bristling as he snapped, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, whatever I want." Dean's eyes flickered back to green as he smirked, and Alex's hand came back to draw her weapon, ready for a fight.

Crowley extended a hand, a small and silent command for her to hold her ground. "Really?" he taunted. "Because I think you don't know what you want. Tell me, Dean — what are you? A demon? If so, why couldn't you bring yourself to kill Lester's wife? Did you feel sorry for her? So maybe you're human. Except you have those pretty black peepers and you're working alongside me. Why don't you do us all a great big favor and _pick a bloody side_!"

The King of Hell's voice boomed throughout the small bar, and Alex lifted her chin as Dean's gaze swept across them. "Or what?" he challenged. "Hmm? Go ahead. Make a move. See how it ends." His fists clenched at his side, but no one moved. "I ain't your fucking bestie, and I ain't taking orders from you. When I need to kill, I'll call. Until then, stay out of my way."

Alex shot Crowley a glance out of the corner of her eye, unsure of how the demon was going to take command of the situation. To her surprise, however, the King of Hell merely shrugged. "Fine. It's over. What can I say?" His eyes slid over to Alex. "Crazy ones — well, they're good for a fling, but they're not relationship material."

Alex grunted, unsure what response he was looking for, and Dean's frown deepened. "Are you done?" he demanded.

" _We're_ done. You know what, Dean? It's not me. It's you." Crowley lifted his chin, and after a second of silence, Dean stalked out of the bar. Alex watched him go, unsure what to do, and the moment he was out of sight, she took a hesitant step after him. "Ah." Crowley's voice had her stopping, and Alex turned in confusion. "We don't need him anymore." The demon's fingers snapped, and Alex felt the coldness lifted from her skin as he removed the demonic chain between her and her charge.

"Great." Alex frowned as she heard the Impala roar to life, and she turned to watch the car tear off down the street. "So … now what? Because I have a mate I should get back to."

"All in due time. First, you're going to come with me." Crowley snapped his fingers, and a clammy darkness encircled her, her stomach roiling as the ground shifted beneath her feet. "Hello, Bullwinkle." The light returned as the King of Hell spoke, and Alex blinked until her eyes adjusted. They were outside, standing beside a motel. "You miss me?"

"So much." Sam's voice was scathing, but it cut off as hazel eyes met grey. "Alex? What?"

The ex-angel lips twitched upwards in a brief, half-hearted smile of acknowledgement. "You're here for Dean," Crowley continued. We're here to give him to you." He ignored Sam's noise of surprise as he explained, "The little prat's bad for business. He's … uncontrollable. Must be the Mark. Anyways, Dean's your problem now — again, forever."

"Then where is he?" Sam's voice rose in desperation, and Alex opened her mouth, ready to respond, but Crowley held out a hand to keep her quiet.

"First," he began, "there's a small matter of my finder's fee."

"Alex." Sam's gaze turned onto her. "Where is he?"

Alex glanced over at Crowley, and the demon clicked his tongue. "She won't tell you anything until I say so. You see, Moose, we've finally reached an understanding, her and I. If I want something done, she does it, no questions asked. In return, I give her what she's always wanted; a guiding hand, firm discipline. A structured upbringing goes a long way."

Alex scoffed, eyes rolling at his words, but she held her tongue from a strong retort. "Just tell him what you want," she said instead, impatience sharpening her voice.

"I want the First Blade." Crowley ignored her pointed words. He watched as Sam's eyebrows lifted in surprise, and he added, "Trust me. This is in the interest of both of us. The sooner we separate the Mark from the Blade, the better off we will all be."

Apprehension danced in the Winchester's hazel eyes, but after barely a second, he nodded. "Okay, fine. Where is Dean?"

"He's headed back at the Black Spur." Crowley motioned over to Alex. "She'll take you there. Harvey is there with him," he told the ex-angel, and Alex blinked to show that she understood. "I'll see the both of you afterwards."

The King of Hell disappeared, and Alex finally turned her full attention onto Sam. "So, uh, hey," she began, and her gaze flickered down to the black sling around his right arm. "What happened to you?"

"Demon." Sam shrugged her question off. "Dislocated it when Cas and I were questioning him about Dean. The thing got loose and …" He trailed off, ending in another shrug, and Alex frowned. "Hey. Come here." He held out his good hand, and Alex stepped into him, pressing her cheek into his chest as she wrapped her arms tightly around the Winchester. "How have you been?"

"About as good as anyone working for Crowley can be, I guess." Alex stepped back and followed Sam down to a silver Honda, and she slid into the passenger seat. "I've been with Dean the whole time — literally the whole time. Crowley had a leash on us. We couldn't go outside of like fifty feet of each other. He only took it off a few minutes ago when he and Dean broke up." She slammed the door closed behind her as the car came to life. "Uh, the bar's just down the street a couple blocks. How's Cas?"

"I don't know." Sam guided the old car down the road, his tone troubled. "I haven't seen him since my shoulder was busted. I think … I think he blames himself for it."

"I talked to him a bit a few days ago," Alex admitted. "He said that he was working with heaven to track down some rogue angels or something. Left up here," she added as she pointed down the road. "It'll be on your right." Her fingers drummed on her thigh, and after a second she hurriedly asked, "Sorry, but I-I need to know. This guy called us, said he was going to kill you —"

"You mean Cole." Sam's face darkened at the memory. "Yeah. Apparently Dean killed his dad a decade ago — guy must have been a monster of some sorts. Cole was looking for revenge." His good hand came up for a moment to touch the side of his face, drawing Alex's attention to the dark purple bruising around his eyes. "I'm lucky I got out alive."

"Yeah. I'm sorry we couldn't come. I-I tried to convince Dean, but he wouldn't have anything to do with it, and when I tried to leave on my own …" She shook her head with a sigh. "I'm glad you're okay."

"It's fine. The important thing is that we find Dean." The silver car pulled up alongside the bar, and Alex climbed out, ignoring how her skin prickled at the feeling of demons. She reached back to make sure that her angel blade was still at her side, and with one last glance up at Sam, she followed the Winchester through the front door.

Dean sat off to their right, the a glass of tequila resting on the top of the piano as the demon sat upon the bench, fingers resting on the old ivory keys. "Hiya, Sam." He spoke without looking up, and Alex watched as he placed the First Blade on top of the piano. His eyes lifted, turning to the man behind the bar, and he said, "Hey, Harve, why don't you go grab a smoke?"

The demon nodded in acquiescence, and he hurried away, pausing only briefly to mutter out a low greeting to Alex. "Hey, Harvey," Alex echoed back, and she watched the bartender disappear before she turned back to Dean.

The Winchester's eyes had fallen onto her. "Should have figured you'd be back." His eyes flashed black before his gaze moved onto his brother, focusing on the black sling around his arm. "Who winged you?"

"Does it matter?" Sam's retort was sharp, but Alex could hear the note of apprehension in his tone.

"Not really." The demon's fingers tightened around the First Blade, his green eyes darkening as he picked up his drink. "I told you to let me go."

His brother shook his head, shifting nervously as he watched his brother take a sip of his drink. "You know I can't do that. By the way, your, uh, _pal_ Crowley … sold you out."

Dean grunted. "Sounds like him." He nodded towards Alex, and the ex-angel lifted her head. "She wouldn't be here unless Crowley was behind it." He rose to his feet, the First Blade held tightly in his hands.

Sam's good hand went out, shifting to keep his brother back, and Alex's weapon was drawn within the second. "Dean, hold on a second," Sam started, and his voice trembled slightly in surprise and fear before it steadied. "You don't have to do this. Look, we know how to cure demons. You remember that?"

Dean walked past them, his eyes coming to rest on Alex's angel blade before he continued onto the bar. "You gonna stab me, Pipsqueak?" he challenged, and the ex-angel's eyes narrowed scornfully at the touch of dry humor in his voice. "After everything we did?"

"Crowley took off the leash," Alex retorted. "My new job's to either bring you in or put you down. Whichever is easier, I suppose."

Her words only seemed to fuel the demon's amusement, and he chuckled before his eyes turned back onto Sam. "Yeah, I remember," he began, addressing his brother's question. "Little Latin, a lot of blood. It rings a bell." He turned back to the bar as he searched for a bottle of liquor. "Did you ever stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn't have bailed?"

"That was Crowley."

"It really wasn't." A smile flickered across Dean's face as he refilled his drink.

Sam's confidence faltered, and Alex felt his gaze come to rest on the side of her face. "I-It doesn't matter, alright?" he finally said, and he stepped past Alex to move towards his brother. "Cause whatever went down, whatever happened, we will fix it."

"We will?" Dean eyes narrowed as he leaned against the bar, carefully watching Sam's approach. "Cause right now, I'm doing all I can not to come over there and rip your throat out … with my teeth." His eyes flashed, and Alex slipped forward, silent as a mouse, to stand between the two Winchesters. "I'm giving you a chance, Sam," the demon warned. "You should take it."

"I'm gonna have to pass."

Dean slammed down his drink and poured himself another with a small shake of his head. "Well, I'm not walking out that door with you. I'm just not. So, what are you gonna do? Are you gonna kill me?"

"No."

"Why?" Dean straightened up, and for a brief second, his face grew serious. "You don't know the things I've done. I might have it coming." His arms stretched out, a challenge for Sam to make the first move, but his brother merely shook his head.

"Well, I don't care." Sam's voice caught in his throat, and he stepped past Alex, his hazel eyes watering as he pleaded with Dean. "Because you are my brother. And I'm here to take you home."

Dean hummed as he sipped his drink, and his eyes sparkled as he chuckled under his breath. " 'You're my brother, and I'm here to take you home,' " he mocked as he went to refill his glass once again, and his chuckle grew into a full-fledged laugh. "Yeah, what is this, a Lifetime movie? Huh? With your puppy-dog eyes?" He motioned towards his brother with his glass as he deridingly shook his head. "Oh, thanks, Sammy. I needed that."

Sam shifted, hurt by his brother's scorn, and he silently reached for his back pockets. Chains clinked as he pulled out the sigil-etched handcuffs, and he held them out towards his brother.

The amusement fell away from Dean's face, replaced with a cold challenge. "You really think those are gonna work?"

"There's one way to find out." Sam stepped forward, and Alex opened her mouth, ready to intervene before Sam got in over his head, but the sound of shattering glass had her immediately flinching away, weapon flashing in the light as she spun towards it source. Something metal flew through the air, and the moment that it hit the ground, smoke poured forth. The acrid smog stung at her airways, and Alex coughed, weapon falling from her grasp as her hands went up to cover her nose. Sam wheezed beside her, leaving only Dean unaffected by the gas, and Alex shoved the younger Winchester towards the back door before stumbling after him.

She felt Dean brush past her, making his way towards the other exit, and the ex-angel hesitated, unsure who to follow. Through the smoke she could see that Sam had made it outside, and, after drawing in one last painful breath, she staggered back after Dean.

She emerged through a side door, tears stinging her eyes as she coughed violently. The sound of a thud and a grunt had her looking up just in time to watch Sam fall to the ground, his head bouncing against the concrete as he was knocked unconscious. A man shook out his fist as he turned to face them, and in one swift motion, Alex had drawn her own gun to match the stranger's weapons.

Blue eyes flashed across them, coming to rest on Dean, and they lit up in recognition. "Wow it's really you."

Alex cocked her weapon with a loud click, but Dean shook his head, a silent gesture for her to stand down. "We met?" he asked, and Alex slowly lowered her gun, taking in the stranger's appearance. Tall, broad, dark hair and blue eyes. Completely unfamiliar.

A gun holster was strapped around his leg, and a sheathed knife hung at his side; whoever he was, he was well armed. "Talked on the phone," came the response, and his finger wrapped itself around the trigger with a practiced ease.

"Right. Right." Dean nodded as he placed the voice. "You're the guy who's supposed to put a bullet in Sammy's head." His eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked over at his unconscious brother. "Did you miss?"

"Well, I had a better idea." Cole stepped towards them, gun pointed at Dean's chest. "I figure if I let your bro escape, he'd go running to you, and all I had to do was just tag along. And now here we are, finally — Dean Winchester."

The man walked forward, gun raised, but Dean merely shook his head. "Great. A groupie." He moved with the man, the two circling each other slowly, and Alex reluctantly stepped aside, pocketing her gun as she made her way towards where Sam was laying.

"Stay where you are," came the command, and Alex paused, turning back to watch Cole's gun swing to her before it turned back onto Dean. "You remember me?"

"Yeah, yeah. You're that guy from that thing." Dean rolled his eyes at the stupid question, huffing out his amusement.

"Nyack, New York, June 21st, 2003."

"That supposed to ring a bell?" Dean's gaze flickered over to Alex, eyebrows lifted in surprise, and the ex-angel gave a shrug; that date was well before her time.

It was the night you gutted and murdered a man by the name of Edward Trenton." Anger shok the man's voice as he took a step towards Dean. "He was my father."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Cole's blue eyes flashed in surprise, unsure what to make of the Winchester's response.

"Well, hey, I'm not saying I didn't slice and dice your old man. I'm just saying that he wasn't the first, and he certainly wasn't he last, and they all just kind of get blended up." Dean shrugged, and Alex couldn't help but add her own reluctant grunt of agreement to back up his statement.

"I saw you .. That night … after. You let me live." Cole's voice shook with rage, and Alex took another step back towards the still-unconscious Sam. "That was dumb — real dumb. I spent half my life training for this moment. I've played out this fight a thousand times in my head. And I know all about you, Dean. And you're good. Oh, you're real good. But you see, I'm better."

"Prove it." Dean spread his out his arms. "Take a shot."

Cole shook his head, and Alex watched as he holstered his gun. "Now, that's not payback." He pulled out a long, double-edged knife, twisting it in his hands as he growled out, "This is payback."

The man lunged at Dean, and Alex slipped around the corner to where Sam lay, ignoring the fight behind her; Cole didn't stand a chance on his own. "Sam." She whispered out the hunter's name as she shook his shoulder, feeling for a pulse before she hissed his name again. "Get up."

"You know," she heard Dean taunt, "and I'm just spitballing here, but, uh, maybe … you're not as good as you think you are." She heard the sound of a punch landing, followed by Dean's exclamation of surprise. "Oh! You know Kung Fu?"

"I know everything." The scuffle continued, and Alex pulled her shirt up over her nose as she slipped back into the building. Her eyes narrowed against the gas, which, while already beginning to disperse, still burned at her eyes. Her angel blade lay on the floor, the handcuffs just beyond, and the ex-angel grabbed both of them before she hurried back outside, coughing as she drew in a lungful of fresh air.

Sam was stirring, his eyes flickering open, and Alex dropped back down by his side as she reached out to help him sit up. "Cole," she explained, jerking a head off towards where the two men were still fighting. "He's got Dean distracted." She pressed the handcuffs into his hand before she pushed herself to her feet. "We don't have much time."

"What did you think was gonna happen, huh?" Alex circled back around the alley to find Dean facing Cole, arms spread out as he stared down at the man. "You just stroll up here and say 'my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die,' and I'd just roll over? Well, that's just — it makes me sad." He leaned down, jeering in Cole's face, and in his confidence he didn't see the flash of the knife until it was too late. The knife slashed down his cheek, cutting through the flesh, and Dean's eyes flashed in rage as he hauled Cole to his feet.

He pinned the man up against a car, a hand gripping his throat. You have no idea what you walked into here, do you?" he asked, his wound healing as he spoke. "None."

"What are you?" Cole gasped out the word from around Dean's hand, and the Winchester's eyes flashed coal black.

"I''m a demon." He reached back to draw the First Blade, pressing the ancient teeth against Cole's pale neck. Alex waved Sam to his feet, urgency fueling her actions as she slunk forward, circling around to the other side.

"Do it!" The man hissed out the words, his eyes flashing as he held Dean's black gaze. "You said if you saw me, you would kill me, so do it!"

Dean's gaze searched his face, and after a second, the demon stepped away. "I guess I changed my mind." He let Cole go, and the man slumped to the ground, gasping for air.

Alex watched as Sam approached from the other side, and, when the tall hunter nodded, she lifted her voice to draw the demon's attention to her. "Hey!" she yelled. "Dean!" Dean's attention snapped onto her, and Sam sprung into action. Holy water flew through the air, burning at Dean's skin, and the demon flinched away with a roar of surprise. Sam jumped forward, and so did Alex, restraining Dean as Sam snapped the etched-handcuffs around his wrist. Dean struggled, desperate to get away, and Alex barely ducked in time as his head whipped around, chin nearly colliding with her skull.

"Stop!" Sam yelled, and Alex staggered back to regain her footing. "It's over! It's over!" The First Blade fell from his hands, and Sam kicked towards Alex. The ex-angel scooped it up, and Dean's green eyes flashed in rage, but his struggles stopped until only the straining of his neck showed his fury. "Get Crowley over here," Sam ordered, and Alex nodded her head. "I'll get him into the car."

"Sure thing. The Impala should be parked over there." Alex pointed off towards the side parking lot, and she stepped aside as Sam led Dean off towards the car. Her eyes turned down to the First Blade, lips pursed as her gaze slid from the bone down to Cole. "Get lost," she advised as the man scrambled to his feet. "You have no idea how lucky you are." She watched the man limp away before she pulled her phone out of her pocket. The cell rang as she made her way after the brothers, and after a second or two, it clicked. "Crowley." Alex stepped out of the alley. "We got Dean and the First Blade. Come by when you're ready."

The King of Hell was standing in the parking lot as she turned the corner, and Alex pocketed her phone and she crossed over to the Impala. Dean was sitting inside, glowering at her from the backseat, but Alex barely spared him a glance as she stopped by Sam's side. Crowley's hand was outstretched, and, without a moment of hesitation, Alex handed over the weapon. "Pleasure doing business with you." Crowley's fingers tightened around the Blade, and his eyes flickered back to Dean.

"What are you going to do with it?"

The demon shrugged at Sam's words. "Toss it in a volcano, leave it on the Moon. I'll get creative. Believe me," he added, brown eyes turning onto Sam, "I don't want Dean getting his hands on the precious any more than you do. Your brother knows that I ratted. He tends to hold a grudge. I don't want to get … boned."

Sam nodded, reluctantly having to agree with the King of Hell's decision, but he warned, "This doesn't make us square. If I see you again —"

"Oh, stop it, Samantha. No one likes a tease." Crowley turned to Alex, and the young hunter lifted her eyebrows, curious as to what the demon wanted her to do. "You wanted to take a vacation? Fine. I'll call you when I need you."

Alex nodded, and Crowley disappeared.

...

 **T** he Impala roared off down the road, its headlights cutting through the dark air. Alex sat in the front seat, legs drawn up under her as she watched the road ahead, fingers drumming lightly on the handle of her angel blade. A glance in the mirror showed Dean, still in the back, still unmoving. He was staring straight ahead, his face frozen in disgust. Sam was beside her, his attention, like Alex's, divided between the road and the demon. "This thing is filthy," he finally said, and Alex muttered out her agreement as she glanced down towards the mess of wrappers on the floor.

Dean scoffed, and his eyes flashed in the gathering darkness. "It's just a car, Sam."

" 'It's just a car.' " Sam repeated the words, foul on his tongue, and he met his brother's gaze through the rearview mirror. "Wow. You really have gone dark."

Dean smirked, and his teeth flashed. "You have no idea."

Sam glanced at Alex, and the angel shrugged, unsure what to say, and the hunter's hazel eyes hardened as he glanced back at his brother. "You know what, Dean? I saw what happened back there. You could have killed that guy, and you didn't. You took mercy on him."

"You call that mercy?" Darkness crept into the Winchester's voice, mixed with cold pleasure. "Imagine you spend your whole life hunting down the guy that knifed your father. When you finally find him … he whips you like a dog." He chuckled at the memory, and the handcuffs clinked as he once again tested his bonds. "How do you think that feels? That kid's gonna spend his whole life knowing that he had his shot and that he couldn't beat me. That ain't mercy. That's the worst thing that I could have done to him." The demon smirked, and Alex's fingers closed around the handle of her blade as he continued, "And what I'm gonna do to you, Sammy … well, that ain't gonna be mercy, either."

"You're not going to do anything to him." Alex's own voice was cold as she rose to meet Dean's unspoken challenge. "I'm not going to let you."

"Right. Because I'm the monster, and you're the hero." Dean's head turned to meet her stare. "And let me guess; you haven't told Sam anything about these past six weeks. The things you've done —"

"I didn't have a choice. Crowley told me to do things, and I did them. It was as simple as that."

Her harsh words didn't slow the Winchester down. "I watched you kill Mindy Morris last night," he reminded. "Let me guess — you didn't even bat an eye, did you? She wasn't a demon, Sammy." His voice rose, loud enough for his brother to hear. "See, her husband made a deal to have her killed. I killed the son of a bitch, but Alex? She put that woman down with no remorse. Isn't that right?"

Alex didn't respond, and her fingers flexed around her weapon as she glared out at the road.

"See, I kill because I have to. The Mark makes me _crave_ it. But you? You just do it … why, again? Because it's fun? Because it makes the rage inside you burn a little bit less? So who's the real monster here?"

"Are you done talking?"Alex's head whipped around, grey eyes flashing in the dim light as she glared back at the demon. "I killed because I had to, nothing more, nothing less. We clear?"

She turned back around, shoulders rolling back, but Dean wasn't finished. "No, no. When I killed Lester, we had already lost that job. You and I both knew Crowley was going to get that soul, which means you didn't have to kill her. You —"

Alex spun around, and her fist pounded into Dean's face. Satisfaction rushed through her at the sound of his nose breaking, and the demon yanked his head back with growl of surprise and pain. The injury healed almost instantly, but her point was made.

"Hey, hey!" The car swerved as Sam jumped in surprise, and Alex turned back to face the road with a glower. "Whoa! Just ignore him, okay? He's just trying to get a rise out of you."

"Yeah, well, he's had that coming for weeks." Alex sunk down in her seat, scowling as she returned her weapon to her lap. "Let's just get him back to the bunker and fix him up. The sooner we get rid of those black eyes, the better."


	4. Soul Survivor

**I know what you're saying: "wow, it's been a week, and she still can't stick to her posting schedule." But I promise I didn't forget; between flying and my boyfriend's sister's wedding, I just didn't have the time or internet access to post. Here we are, so enjoy!**

 **...**

* * *

 **November 17th, 2014**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** lex stepped out of the kitchen, taking a sip of her beer as she looked up and down the bunker hallways. It was empty, the walls and floor as pristine as ever, and the ex-angel drew in a deep breath as she made her way towards the library. There was something comforting about how the bunker hadn't changed; even the air had the same, slightly musty tang. The library tables were as they had always been, filled with books from Sam's research, and the neat stack extended even as far as the war room.

The ex-angel brushed past the Winchester's work as she crossed over to the hall that led to the bedrooms, and she took a long swig of her drink as she tipped her head, listening for any signs of life before she crossed into her bedroom.

The room was dark and completely untouched; her bag still lay unpacked on the floor, exactly where it had been two months ago, and the ex-angel sat down on her bed, hand slipping under her pillow to pull out the manilla folder that had belonged to Bobby Singer. The files were just as she had left them, and Alex dragged her fingers down along the edge of the crumpled note.

She was shaken from her thoughts by the sound of the bunker door opening, and Alex hurried out of her room towards it source. "Sam?" She finished off the last of her drink and set it on the library table as her eyes turned towards the bunker entrance. The Winchester was making his way down the staircase, a cooler gripped tightly in his injured hand. Alex moved forward to take it away from him. "Here. Let me take that."

"Thanks. How is he?"

"Alive, last I checked. He's still restrained down in the dungeon." Alex fell in step behind him as Sam led the way across the bunker and down the stairs. "How'd it go? Did the priest show to purify the blood?"

"Yeah, he showed." Sam pushed open the archive door, and Alex helped him pull open the bookshelves to reveal Dean Winchester.

The demon sat in the center of the demon trap, bound to his wooden chair by thick ropes. His eyes flickered up to them as the shelves spread wide, and Alex let Sam cross over to the small table before she followed to place the blood at his side. "Really?" She heard Dean scoff, and she circled around the bound demon before she took up a spot on the wall, arms crossed.

Sam ignored his brother's scornful words as he unrolled a black syringe case. "For whatever it's worth, I got your blood type." He pulled out a large syringe, holding it up so he could study the needle, and Alex watched as Dean's eyes narrowed.

"Sam, I know you think you're gonna try and fix me, but … did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want to be fixed? Just let me go and live my life. I won't bother you. What do you care?"

"What do I care?" Sam pulled a flask of holy water out of his jacket pocket as he turned to face his brother, and silence hung in the air as he searched for the right words. Dean's eyes glittered, and Sam unscrewed the flask's lid. " _A ritum sacrum_ ," he began, shaking out the water onto the ground at his brother's feet, " _hanc terram consecrato_."

"You think I'm just gonna sit here like Crowley?" Dean spoke up over the purification ritual, but Sam paid him no attention. "Get all weepy while you shoot me up? Well, screw that. I don't _want_ this!"

"Yeah, I pretty much figured that out." Sam turned back to his table and set the flask down.

"You don't even know if this is gonna work, do you?" Dean continued angrily. "You know, I got a hell of a lot more running through me than just demon juice."

Sam nodded, eyes flickering over to Alex. "Mark of Cain. Got it." He motioned the ex-angel over, and Alex crossed the room to draw up the blood into the syringe for him.

"That's right." A note of smugness lined Dean's voice, and Alex handed the Winchester the needle as she turned back to Dean.

"Alright, get ready." She stepped aside to let Sam through, moving to stand at Dean's side in case the demon decided to struggle.

"Sammy …" Dean's green eyes came to rest on the needle before they moved up to his brother's face. "You know I hate shots."

"I hate demons." Dean's eyes flashed black at Sam's words, but the hunter was faster. Dean hissed in pain as holy water splashed against his face, and in the split second of distraction, Sam plunged the needle deep into Dean's forearm. "Look, we got a whole bunch more of these to go," Sam said as he stepped away, and the black bled away from Dean's eyes as the blood coursed through his veins. "You could make it a lot easier on yourself."

Dean only grunted in pain, and his head jerked in surprise as the purified blood reached his heart, spreading out through his body. His body convulsed when Alex laid her hand on his shoulder, and she squeezed it gently before she stepped away. "We'll be back in an hour."

Dean snarled as she walked away, and Alex nudged Sam out of the room. "Should we really be leaving him?" Sam cast a glance back towards his brother, but Alex firmly closed the door behind them.

"That was the first dose. He'll be fine for another few hours." Alex led the way back towards the stairs, adding after a second, "Didn't you say that Cas was on his way?"

"Yeah." Her words seemed to have soothed at least some of the hunter's anxiety, and Sam followed her up the stairs. "He said that he'll be here soon. I, uh, I think I'll go see what else I can dig up on this cure in the meantime. Maybe I missed something."

"Yeah. Okay." Alex watched him walk away, and with a small shrug, she moved off towards the kitchen. "I'll see you in an hour."

...

 **A** hand on her shoulder had her jumping, and Alex yanked the earbud out of her ear as she spun around to look up at Sam. "Hey." The ex-angel pushed away her plate of half-eaten pizza as she looked down at the clock on her phone. "You ready for round two?"

"Yeah." Sam's hazel eyes moved over her meal, and his lips set in a terse line. "I can't even think about eating. Not with Dean …"

Alex offered up half of a shrug. "Dean's going to be fine," she promised. "No point in starving myself over it." She slammed down the last of her drink and pushed herself to her feet, clearing her throat before Sam could respond. "Alright. Lead the way."

She followed Sam down to the dungeon, pulling open the doors and flicking on the lights. "You're back." Dean's head lifted, and he met their gazes with a cold stare. "And here I was starting to think you'd forgotten me."

"Oh trust me, before this is over you'd wish we had." Alex pulled the doors half-shut behind her, and Sam crossed over to where the blood-filled syringes were laying. "Because first we need to kill off those pretty black eyes, and I'm going to guess that it's going to hurt."

"Or, for all you know, you could be actually killing me," Dean retorted.

"Or, you're just messing with us." Sam turned away and pulled free a syringe. "Either way, the lore doesn't say anything about exceptions to the cure."

Alex leaned up against the wall, eyes narrowed as the demon chuckled. "The lore," he repeated with a disdainful shake of his head. "Hunters. Men of Letters. What a load of crap it all is!" He watched as Sam turned away, but when his brother didn't respond, his gaze turned to Alex. The ex-angel pursed her lips, following in the tall hunter's example, and Dean's eyebrow cocked. "Oh, you got nothing?"

"You want me to debate you?" Sam pulled the blood out of the cooler with a small shake of his head. "This isn't even the real you I'm talking to."

"Oh, it's the real me, alright. Isn't that right, Alex?" Dean's eyes flashed black, but Alex merely lifted her chin. "The new real me — the me that sees things for what they really are. Winchesters. Do-gooders. Fighting the natural order. Let me tell you something — guys like me, we _are_ the natural order. It's the way it was set up."

"Guys like me still got to do what we can." Sam turned back to his brother, weariness weighing down his voice, and his brother's eyes sparkled, entertained by the response.

"Don't be so full of yourself, Sammy. Cause, see, from where I'm sitting … there ain't much difference from what I turned into to what you already are."

"And what the hell is that suppose to mean?" Alex crossed her arms, and Dean's gaze swung over to her.

"You know exactly what I mean. Crowley told us what he did when he went looking for us. How far he went." His eyes turned back to Sam, a scowl on his face. "So let me ask you … which one of us is really a monster? Hmm? Starting to come back to you now?"

Alex watched as Sam let out a loud, reluctant breath, and Dean grinned darkly. "You were trying to get a twenty on us from any demon you could snag. But Crowley didn't want to be found, and no one showed when you summoned. But you found a way, didn't you, Sammy? You would have liked to have gotten there before the deal went down, but you didn't really care about poor ol' Lester, did you?"

Sam's eyes widened in hurt at the memory, and Alex pushed herself off of the wall. "Dean. That's enough."

"And you already know that I killed Lester myself," Dean continued, ignoring Alex's interruption. "And her?" His eyes flashed in Alex's direction. "She put down that poor old wife. As well as — how many other people? I'm starting to lose count."

"I never meant —" Sam started, but Dean scoffed angrily.

"Who cares what you meant? That line that we thought was so clear between us and the things that we hunted ain't so clear, is it? Wow. You might actually be worse than me! I mean, you took a guy at his lowest, used him, and it cost him his life, his wife, and his soul. Nice work —"

Alex stepped forward. "That's enough," she hissed, and Sam approached, the syringe in his hands. Dean screamed as the needle plunged into his neck, a real, agonized scream, and concern flashed through the ex-angel as his fingers clawed desperately at the wooden armrests. Sam turned away, his own face dark with the pain, and Alex looked down at the ground, closing herself off to the Winchester's cries.

"Let me ask you this, Sammy." Dean's voice was rough with pain, and he snarled out his words. "If this doesn't work, we both know what you got to do to me, right? You got the stomach for that, Sam?!"

Anger rushed through her, and Alex stepped in between the two brothers. "Sam, get out of here," she ordered, and she ushered the Winchester out of the room. "There's nothing else we can do for him until the next dose."

Sam pulled out his phone, and Alex closed the shelves behind her, glancing over her shoulder to watch the Winchester dial a number. "Cas." Sam pressed the phone up against his ears, and Alex's head perked up at the name of her mate. "Hey, are you coming?"

"Cas?" Alex hurried after Sam as he stepped out into the hallway.

"Yeah, she's here," Sam told the seraph on the other end. "And no, it's not working very well. Look, it — it's not like it was with Crowley. Dean is in pain. I mean, he's in bad pain. It's like he's barely holding on. Cas … I might be killing him." He ran a hand through his long hair, face scrunched in pain as he listened to Castiel's response. "So … what? Should I stop?"

Alex narrowed her eyes. _Stop?_ she mouthed back to him. They didn't have the option to stop.

"Cas, did you not hear what I just said?" Sam insisted. "I could be killing my brother. Killing my _brother_ ," he repeated pointedly after a second, and then he shook his head. "Yeah, all right. I'll uh … we'll leave the entry unlocked for you. Just … hurry."

He hung up, and Alex frowned. "How far away is he?"

"He didn't say. Hopefully not far." Sam brushed past Alex and made his way back into the dungeon, Alex close at his heels. Dean was still in his chair, but his eyes were closed, his body slumped against the unyielding wooden slats. "Hey. Hey!" Sam slapped his brother's cheeks, waking him back up. "Dean! Come on! Come back."

"No." Dean's voice was a hoarse whisper, and Sam's wide eyes turned back onto Alex before his efforts redoubled.

"Come back to me," he insisted. "You there? Hey! Dean, you okay?"

The demon's eyes flickered open, but his voice stayed weak and pained. "Yeah, if you … consider drowning in your own sweat while your blood boils 'okay.' " He let out a weak cough, and Sam straightened up.

"Look, I can't stop doing this," he started, but Dean coughed again.

"Sure you can," he retorted, and his voice rose angrily. "You just _stop_! There's no point in trying to bring your brother back now."

Sam's hazel eyes hardened. "Oh, I will bring him back," he vowed, but Dean ignored him.

"In fact," he continued, "your, uh … guilt-ridden, weight-of-the-world bro has been M.I.A. for quite some time now. But I'm loving the new model." His eyes flashed black, and his chin lifted to hold Sam's gaze. "Lean, mean, Dean." Sam scoffed, and Dean frowned. "You notice I tried to get as far away from you as possible? Away from your whining, your complaining. I chose the King of Hell over you! Maybe I was just … tired of babysitting you. Or always having to yank your lame ass out of the fire since …" the demon paused to pretend to think, "since forever. Or maybe … maybe it was the fact that my mother would still be alive if it wasn't for you. That your very _existence_ sucked the life out of my life!"

Alex's fist came out of nowhere, colliding with Dean's mouth, and the Winchester cut off with a hiss of surprise. "Shut it," she hissed, and she looked back at Sam. "Don't listen to him. That isn't your brother talking."

"You never had a brother," Dean spat. "Just an excuse for not manning up. But guess what. I quit."

"No. No, you don't." Anger danced in Sam's eyes as he spun around to confront his brother. "You don't get to quit. We don't get to quit in this family! This family is all we ever had!"

"Well, then, we got nothing." Dean's words had Alex's fist rising again, but Sam was there in a second, holding her back.

"Stop it," he whispered, and Alex roughly yanked herself away with a scowl. "I can handle Dean. Go wait outside."

"No way." Alex glared over at Dean with a huff; the demon held her gaze calmly, eyes narrowed in a challenge. "There's no way I'm leaving you alone with him." Her gaze turned back up onto Sam as concern flashed across her freckled face. "You don't know what he's like, Sam. He's nothing like he was. Hell, I've been with him every day for the past two months —"

"I can take care of him." Sam's tone left no room for argument, and Alex's grey eyes narrowed, but she reluctantly nodded. "Go wait for Castiel." Sam turned back to his brother, and Alex turned her head away. "I'll take care of things here."

"Fine. I'll be upstairs if you need me." With one last glare towards Dean, Alex shoved her hands into her pocket and stalked away.

...

 **A** lex's phone buzzed, and the ex-angel looked up in surprise, almost dropping the heavy book she was half-heartedly skimming through. Who would be calling her? Sam was downstairs, still with Dean, and Castiel had promised he was only an hour away. The hunter pulled her phone close, and her eyes narrowed at the name on the screen. "Crowley." Alex pressed the phone up against her ear, face darkening. "I thought I was on vacation."

"Why? Are you doing something important?"

Alex looked down at her empty plate with a shrug. "Yeah," she lied before adding, "We're curing Dean — remember when we tried that on you?" She listened for the demon's hum of agreement. "Fingers crossed it'll be over before the day is done. So what do you want?"

"It has come to my attention that Castiel and his new sweetheart have run into some trouble in the past few minutes. Now, I was on my way to go clean up their mess, but if you're too busy …"

"No, no." Alex pushed herself to her feet, eyes going wide. "I'm at the bunker. I can be outside in — give me thirty seconds." She slammed her laptop closed as she hung up, and her feet carried her up the stairs. She slipped out of the bunker and into the cold air, and the ex-angel suppressed a shiver as wind whipped through the air. "Crowley?"

The wind grew stronger as the ground disappeared from beneath her feet, and Alex stumbled as the world went black. It returned after a moment, the ground dusty beneath her feet, and Alex huffed out a curse as she regained her footing. Crowley stood at her side, but Alex barely noticed him, her attention drawn immediately onto her mate.

Castiel lay in the dust, blood still oozing from lacerations on his face, and Alex was at his side within seconds. "Cas?" she dropped down next to him, a hand coming out to rest on his barely moving chest. "What the hell? Cas! Can you hear me?"

The seraph's blue eyes flickered open, and Alex heard footsteps stop behind her. "Hey, champ," she heard Crowley chuckle. "Look at you. Talk about roadkill." His hand came to rest on Alex's shoulder, and the ex-angel brushed Castiel's matted hair from his forehead. She could hear a scuffle going on behind her, muffled as if behind a wall, and she glanced over her shoulder towards an old decrepit gas station.

Crowley moved off towards it, and Alex shoved her hands into her pockets, searching for something — anything — to wipe away the blood. "I'm okay." The words were stuttered out through a hoarse throat, and Alex grabbed the angel's hand, curling her fingers through his.

"Alex."

Crowley beckoned her over, and Alex squeezed her mate's hand gently. "I'll be right back," she whispered, and she carefully pulled herself free of his hold. "We'll get you back to the bunker where it's safe." She rose to her feet and made her way after Crowley, reaching back to grab her angel blade defensively. "What's going on —" A hush from the demon had her mouth clamping shut as they stepped through the doorway.

Inside the gas station were two angels. Alex recognized Hannah, held at the throat by another angel. "You killed an angel," she was saying, voice strong and angry despite the blood on her face. "You had to answer for it!"

"That angel would have hauled us back to that Heaven of yours," the stranger snarled, and she yanked Hannah's head back, pressing her angel blade up against Hannah's chin. "You should have left us alone."

"And that will do." Crowley strolled forward, drawing an angel blade from his sleeve, and the strange angel spun around, eyes flashing in surprise. She stalked towards the King of Hell, but the demon was faster. His blade came upwards, the tip sliding through her neck, and the angel stopped in surprise as he grace spilled outwards through the cut. It flowed downwards, and Crowley lifted a small glass vial to catch the glowing essence.

Alex watched hesitantly, unsure of the King's motives, but she stayed rooted on the spot as the last of the grace was collected. Crowley stepped forward, and the angel blade slid through the angel's heart. "Why can't you people just sit on clouds and play harps like you're supposed to?" she heard him murmur in the dying angel's ear, and when he pulled away, the body collapsed to the ground. Crowley slid a small glass top onto the vial, and Alex's eyes flickered down to Hannah. The angel was watching her, eyes sharp with surprise and anger, and Alex lifted her chin.

Crowley turned around, and Alex's gaze turned down to the grace that swirled within the glass vial. "What's that for?"

"You, if you want it." The King of Hell held out the grace, but Alex simply narrowed her eyes. She searched his face, looking for any sign of deception, but it was placid.

"No," she finally decided. "I don't." She stepped aside as Crowley swept past her, and she glanced back towards Hannah. The dark-haired angel's gaze was cold, an unspoken accusation on her lips, and Alex dropped her gaze. "I do what I have to," she murmured, and she followed after Crowley.

The demon was kneeling down beside Castiel, who was pushing away the vial grace with a weak yet firm hand. "Don't be an idiot," Crowley chastised scathingly. "Yes, it's hers, but she was killing your mistress. Your hands are clean. As much as it pains me to say this … you're useless to me dead."

Castiel's gaze tuned onto Alex, and the ex-angel gave a small, desperate nod. "Please," she begged. "The angel's already dead. Just take it before you die, too." She watched as Castiel's eyes closed, and the grace tipped out of the vial and in through his lips. His skin glowed as the grace overtook his body, and Alex looked down as she felt her own skin tingle. She could feel something moving within, something angelic but not strong enough to be grace, and she opened and closed her fists in confusion.

"You owe me." Crowley recapped the glass vial, and Alex's attention was drawn back upwards.

"Why did you help me?" The seraph's voice was still rough, but his wounds had closed up, the blood dispersing into thin air.

"Purely business." Crowley rose to his feet and brushed off his hands. "Since you're five miles away from the Winchester's Clubhouse, I can only surmise that you're headed there. And that Dean has become a handful. Having him as a demon has caused me nothing but grief. Fix the problem."

"You realize, worst comes to worst … that means killing him." Castiel pushed himself to his feet, and Crowley's eyes narrowed as he studied the seraph's face.

"I'm not sentimental," he finally said, and he walked away, brushing Alex aside on his way.

The ex-angel reached out, grabbing his arm. "Hey," she started, and Crowley paused, brown eyes meeting grey. "Thank you." The demon only blinked, and Alex dropped her hands to her side, letting the King of Hell disappear.

Crowley was standing next to his Continental, and Alex's feet carried her into her mate's arms. She dug her fingers into his thick, tan coat, pressing her face into his white shirt as she closed her eyes. Castiel's chin came to rest on her head, nose pressed into her hair, and his lips moved against her forehead as he spoke. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Nothing could have hurt me." Alex's eyes flickered closed as she nuzzled into Castiel's warm, solid chest. "I was so worried about you." She looked back towards the gas station as Hannah approached, and her brow furrowed. "Who was she?" she asked Castiel. "Did she do this to you?"

"Her name was Adina. She and Daniel were the two rogue angels that we had gone to speak with." Castiel's face fell, and he exchanged a look with Hannah. "A skirmish broke out, and Daniel was killed. Adina must have been following us since."

"You came here with Crowley." Hannah stopped beside them, and the ex-angel's eyes narrowed.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I did. And you're welcome that we came, otherwise you'd both be dead." She reached down to take Castiel's hand, fingers weaving through his as she disdainfully looked the angel up and down before she turned back to Castiel. "How's heaven been? What have you been doing?"

"I'll tell you in the car." Castiel circled around to the driver's side of the Lincoln, and Alex followed, purposefully taking the front seat to leave the back to Hannah. "We need to get to Dean." His gaze turned onto her as the car spluttered to life, and he asked, "You've been with Dean this whole time, haven't you?"

"Yeah. Crowley's had me babysitting. The Mark turned him into a demon, and a pissy one at that, and I had to make sure he didn't do anything stupid." Alex buckled herself in as the car took off down the dusty road. "I wanted to come back, but Crowley wouldn't let me — he wouldn't let me tell you anything."

"You had me worried. We weren't sure what had become of you or of Dean." The seraph fell silent for a moment before he added, "Ashiel has been asking about you. He doesn't understand why you haven't come back yet."

Guilt pulsed through Alex, and she turned her head away. "Have … have you found …"

"Angels located Eremiel two weeks ago. He was badly injured in the fall. Lauren … didn't survive." Castiel's blue gaze turned onto Alex, dull with remorse. "So many _Enaiish_ have died. There are two back in heaven, you, and Adina, who is now dead."

"Three. There's three of us left?" Surprise pulsed through her, and Alex looked back at Hannah. When she nodded, the ex-angel turned her gaze back to the road. "What — what about all of the fledglings? Have you found any more of them?"

"Only Ashiel." Sadness weighed down Castiel's voice. "No child could have survived the fall, and we've found no signs of any others." He paused, and Alex felt his eyes turn onto her. "How is Dean responding to the cure?"

"I … It's hurting him more than it ever hurt Crowley." Alex reluctantly let the subject change. Her attention turned down to her hands, and she focused on digging out the dirt from beneath her nails. "Like, it's _really_ hurting him." She looked up at her mate, and her eyes stretched wide. "I don't know if we're killing him, but there's nothing else than we can do."

She watched as the car rolled down the road towards the bunker, and she pulled out her phone to text Sam. _How are things going? Castiel and I are almost to the bunker. I'll explain when we're there._

No immediate response came, and Alex placed her phone back onto her lap. "Is Metatron still in heaven? The past two months — so much has happened."

"He's still in heaven's jail." It was Hannah who spoke. "We made the door to his cell permanent. Heaven is slowly putting itself back together."

"Good." Alex's phone vibrated, and the ex-angel looked down at the screen. _Dean's out. He's got a weapon. Hurry up_. "Ah, shit." Alex slammed her phone back down onto her leg as she looked up at Castiel. "Dean broke free and he's going after Sam. You gotta — you gotta go faster, Cas."

The car jumped forward, hurtling down the road, and Alex felt her shoulders twitch, angry at the lack of wings. _We're almost there_ , she promised, fingers dancing over the keyboard as she typed out her reply. _We'll be there in a minute. Just stay safe for a little bit longer._ "The Mark's made him really volatile," she explained darkly. "Cas … you have no idea the things that he's done with it."

"We'll talk about it later." The Continental's wheels spun in the mud as it turned the corner, and the brakes squealed as it slid to a stop. Alex threw open the door and bolted towards the bunker, her ankles protesting as she flung herself down the metal outer stairs. Castiel followed, and Alex immediately fell silent as she slipped through the unlocked door. The interior was dark, lit by the red lights indicative of a lock down.

Alex's angel blade lay on the library table, and she snatched it up, twirling it in her hand as she looked up and down the hallway. "Dean?" Her voice rang out through the empty room, and she looked back over at Castiel. "Go left," she ordered. "I'll go right, and we'll meet up in the middle by the stairs."

She didn't wait for an answer before she slipped off towards the hallway, leaving Castiel alone. "Dean?" she called again, fingers curling in at her side. "Where are you at, you black-eyed bitch?" No answer came, and she dragged her weapon along the wall, listening to how the metal tipped scraped ominously along the concrete. "I know you're out here. What are you hiding from?"

A low chuckle came from behind her, and Alex spun around to find Dean standing at the end of the hall. "Is that how you draw out all of your friends?" he taunted, and Alex's grey eyes flickered down to the hammer in his hands.

"How — how did you get out?"

"All that blood you pumped into me to make me less human? Well … the less demon I was, the less the cuffs worked." Dean chuckled, and his eyes glittered. "And that devil's trap — well, I just walked right across it. It smarted, but still."

"Where's Sam?" Her eyes hardened into steel as Dean stepped forward, and her grip on her own weapon tightened warily.

The Winchester's voice was casual, lazy almost, and he sauntered up to stop just in front of her. "Just down the hall," he promised. He looked down at her weapon, and the demon chuckled, eyes flashing black. "You gonna poke me with your God stick?"

"Don't tempt me. Because if we can't cure you … then I guess I get to kill you." Alex lifted her weapon, holding in between her and the demon to keep him at bay while she spoke. "Because I think we both know that Sam's not going to be strong enough to do it."

Dean chuckled, and his eyes flashed black as he knocked her weapon away. "And you really think you are?"

"I know I am." Alex ducked as the hammer came flashing through the air, and she backpedaled, spinning her blade down so she could hold it like a knife.

"Alex!" Sam's voice came from behind her, but the ex-angel didn't tear her gaze away from Dean. The demon snarled at the sight of his brother, but before he could take one more step forward, arms wrapped around his waist, pinning Dean's hands at his side.

"It's over." Castiel grunted in surprise as Dean's mouth fell opened in a roar, and the seraph's eyes glowed blue with his stolen grace. "Dean, it's over," he repeated as the demon yelled out his frustration, but not matter how much he struggled, the seraph held tight. "It's over."

"Get him back downstairs." Alex pressed herself up against the wall as Castiel moved forward, grunting at the effort of carrying the sullen demon. "You okay?" The ex-angel fell in step beside Sam, voice lowered so Dean couldn't hear. "I didn't think he was capable of getting out. Not … not in his state." She glanced off down the hall, a frown darkening her expression. "And here I thought we were killing him."

Sam didn't respond, and Alex followed Castiel down the bunker stairs, her weapon still held tightly as she warily kept an eye on Dean. The demon had given up his struggle as the seraph deposited him back on the chair, safe within the devil's trap. "You think this is going to hold me?" Dean's chin lifted definitely as his bonds were resecured by his brother, tighter this time, and his black eyes turned onto Alex. "Next time I get out, I'm going to kill each and everyone of you."

"Isn't it time for your next dose?" Alex glanced over at Sam, and the hunter gave a silent nod as he crossed over to the table. Dean watched warily as his brother drew up the purified blood, and Alex circled around the brother to set her angel blade down before she leaned up against the wall, arms crossed.

The demon roared as the needle pierced his skin, his fingernails clawing at the wooden chair in agony as the blood rushed to his heart. Sam stalked out of the room without another word, and Alex watched him go with a small frown. She took a step to follow him, but Dean's low chuckle had her pausing. "I see you got your juice back."

"It's not my grace." Regret weighed down Castiel's voice. "And I didn't want it. Crowley —"

"Of course." Dean's eyes swung back onto Alex, and she watched as the iris darkened, unable to reach their inky blackness with the cure racing through his veins. "Makes sense the two of you are still buddying up. How does Cas feel about that? You told him yet?"

Alex's lips pursed, and Castiel's face scrunched up in confusion. "Tell me what?"

"It's nothing."

"You shot Lester's wife in cold blood." Smugness lined Dean's voice, and Alex's fists tightened at her side, half-tempted to cross the room and wipe the grin right off of his face. "I don't know if I'd call that nothing."

"Crowley told me to get the job done," Alex replied, her voice as even and steady as she could muster, "and that's what I did. I never claimed to be proud of it."

"Please." Dean scoffed loudly at her words. "The job was over the second Lester died. You went out of your way to put a bullet in that whore's skull."

Alex felt Castiel's gaze on the side of her face, and her cheeks flushed beneath his stare. "I did what I had to," she repeated, and her fingernails dug into her palm as she tightened her fists.

"Right. Like you 'had to' shoot your father." Alex stepped back, the air pushed from her lungs like a blow to the chest, and Dean smirked at the breathless noise that left her lips, his eyes flashing in pleasure. "That's right; Crowley told me everything. Even I couldn't bring myself to shoot my own pops, but you …"

"I didn't kill him!" The ex-angel's voice cracked. "I didn't!"

"Yeah, but you meant to, didn't you?" Dean's eyes bled black, and Alex looked over at Castiel in desperation; the seraph's face was blank, his gaze trained on Dean. "You know, the demons talk about you behind your back. Fallen angel, working with demons. Remind you of anyone?"

Alex's eyes flashed, but she kept her mouth shut, lips pursed tightly together. Her gaze swung back onto Castiel. "Come on." She motioned towards the door, and she turned her back on the demon. "Let's go — Dean will be fine here on his own."

She hurried away, and footsteps echoed on the stone floor as Castiel followed. "Shooting your father? What is Dean talking about?" The archive door closed behind them, and Alex hesitated at the sound of Castiel's low, commanding voice. "Alex. Talk to me."

"What?" The ex-angel's posture grew defensive, and she reluctantly turned to face her mate. "I told you I didn't kill him, so what does it matter? He's alive." She saw how the seraph's lips pursed, and she added, "And the others - so what? I'm a hunter; killing things is what I do." She let out her breath through her nose, her argument almost painfully weak, and she turned away with a shake of her head. "Humans, monsters, it all feels the same. So when Crowley says kill … it's them or me."

"You know that's not a good excuse." The quiet patience in his voice had Alex's jaw clenching, and her fingers dug into the hem of her jacket. "It's one thing to kill monsters, but people ..? You don't even stop to -"

"Oh, take the plank out of your eye, Cas." Alex spun around, and for a second she was surprised by the anger in her tone. "How many angels did you kill in heaven? Hundreds? Thousands? I could kill twice as many things as I already have and still never come _close_ to what you've done. So shut up!"

The hallway fell silent, and Alex flinched at her own words. Castiel was frozen in place, blue eyes wide in hurt and surprise, and the ex-angel's shoulders fell. "I'm sorry," she murmured, and a step across the room brought her to the seraph's side. She wrapped her arms around his waist, cheek resting apologetically against his chest, and she let out a long, deep breath, eyes squeezed shut as she pressed into him. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No," Castiel quietly agreed, and Alex felt the tension leave his shoulders. "I'm sorry that I upset you. You've been under a lot of stress, between Dean and Crowley, and whatever you've done, you've done because you've had to. I know that much. I shouldn't have provoked you." His lips pressed against her temple, a light, lingering kiss, and then he pulled away. "I should go check on Sam. Perhaps you should keep your distance from Dean for the time being."

Alex watched as he walked away, and her gaze fell onto the ground as he disappeared around the corner. "Perhaps."

Her feet carried her back through the archive door, and she pulled it loosely closed behind her, blinking until her eyes adjusted to the dark. "How'd he take it?" Dean's scathing voice reached her ears, and Alex stepped through the bookshelves to meet his gaze. "Let me guess. He asked you a question, and you blew it way out of proportion? Hurt his feelings?" His gaze searched Alex's, and the corner of his lips turned up in a cruel smile. "Typical. And — one more guess here — he gave you the whole 'it's me, not you' thing, didn't he?"

"Shut it." Alex snatched her weapon off of the table, teeth digging into her cheek to keep herself from saying anything else; he had obviously overheard the conversation. That was it.

"Cassie just loves you so much, doesn't it? Can't see you for what you really are." Dean's voice rose as Alex stalked away without so much a glance in his direction. "You should have chosen Lucifer, you know that? At least he'd have the balls to —"

Alex slammed the door closed behind her, and Dean's voice disappeared, muffled beyond recognition by the heavy wooden door.

Lucifer.

Her fist collided with the wall, knuckles slamming into the rough stone, and pain shot up her wrist. Dean was lying — that's what demons did. Anything they could do to cause doubt and pain. Her fingers tightened around her weapon, and the ex-angel drew in a deep breath as she let her fist fall back down to her side. She could still hear Dean yelling, his words unable to pierce the door, and she scoffed as she turned towards the stairs. "You're lying," she muttered, and she felt some of her anger subside as she spoke the words aloud. "What do you know about Lucifer anyways?"

...

 **T** he library table creaked under Alex's weight as the ex-angel settled down upon it, her feet drawing up to rest on the seat of a chair as she set her drink down at her side. The library was quiet, with neither Sam nor Castiel in sight, and Alex tipped her head to one side momentarily as she listened for any indication of their location. She could faintly feel Castiel's stolen grace, her soul connected to him by a thin, ethereal strand, and she wished she could reach out towards the foreign warmth.

"You can feel it, too." Castiel's voice had jumping, and the ex-angel slithered off the table in surprise.

"Uh, yeah." Alex straightened her sweatshirt as she turned to face her mate, clearing her throat to hide her awkward dismount; she could have sworn he was at least a room away. "Where's Sam?"

"I left him in the kitchen. He's getting ready for Dean's last dose." Castiel stopped in front of her, and his hands came out to rest on her hips, fingers lightly clinging to the thick fabric of her sweatshirt. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." Alex tipped her head up to kiss him, and the seraph's fingers dug in a little more tightly. She leaned forward, resting her head against his chest as her arms encircled him. "I just missed you." She pulled her head away and replaced it with her hand, curling her fingers over his heart. "Adina's grace isn't very strong. How long do you think it will last?"

"Long enough." Castiel's own hand came to cover hers. "You should take some." His head dipped, but Alex turned her face away before his lips could reach hers.

"No. I don't need it." The ex-angel pulled away with a small shake of her head. "I'll be safe without it — Crowley's deal has its benefits, remember?" Her eyes drifted down to where her hand lay enclosed in his, resting against his warm, solid chest. "You need it more than I do." Silence followed her words, and her shoulders fell with a sigh. "Where … where'd Hannah go?"

"She's still outside in the car. She's waiting for me to go with her back to heaven."

"They still want you to lead them, don't they?" Alex gently disentangled her hand from his and leaned back up against the table. Castiel nodded, and the ex-angel frowned. "So I'm guessing you've spent a lot of time up there," she added, doing her best to keep her voice light.

"Not as much as I should have." The seraph's face darkened, and his hands fell to his side. "I tried to help Sam tracked down you and Dean, but with my failing grace …" Castiel trailed off with a small shake of his head. "Perhaps I'll return to heaven for a time. They need my assistance with their rebuilding efforts, at least until they are self-sufficient once again."

"Fun." Alex glanced off towards the kitchen at the sound of footsteps approaching. "Maybe … maybe once Dean is cured and all, I can come back with you. I know … I know I'm not an angel anymore, but once — once we find our grace …"

She trailed off at the look on Castiel's face, and her shoulders fell in confusion. "Alex … the angels don't hold you in high regard. Not between Lucifer, and the fall, and your soul." The lightest brush of wind ran up her arms, and Alex's eyes momentarily closed as she tried to imagine his wings curling around them. "I'm sure that they'll come around, but for the mean time … perhaps it's best that you stay away."

"Oh." Alex turned her head away, doing her best to hide her disappointment from her mate. "Okay. I understand."

She could feel Castiel's own regret in the way his hand came up to cup her face, but she refused to lifted her gaze to his face. "I'm sorry. If you would rather I say here —"

"Hey." Sam's voice came from the doorway, and Alex jerked her head away in surprise. "Sorry, am I interrupting? I — it's time."

"You're fine." Alex slipped away from Castiel's side and crossed over to the Winchester, grabbing her drink in the process. "Is he … is he doing any better?" She finished by clearing her throat, careful to ignore the way the seraph was staring at her.

"No. Not … not really." Sam's hands twitched at his side, his jaw set, and Alex ran a hand through her hair as the Winchester fell silent. Alex followed him back down the hall, lengthening her stride to walk at his side when she felt Castiel close behind her.

The lights flickered on in the dungeon to reveal the Dean, the skin around his wrists rubbed raw from his restraints. He stirred at the sound of their entry, and a mixture of anger and fear flashed across his face before it twisted into a cold grimace. "Back for more?"

Sam crossed the room towards the cooler of blood, and Alex let Castiel stop at her side as she looked Dean up and down. Despite his scornful words, his voice lacked its normal vibrato, and his eyes were dull with exhaustion and tracked Sam's movements warily, and Alex's lips fell into a frown as the demon barely fought the needle that slid deep into his arm.

His head reared back in agony, limbs convulsing in shock, but the pain faded quicker than before, and the Winchester slumped into unconsciousness almost immediately as the tremors faded, his head dropping to his chest in exhaustion. "What the hell are we doing to him, Cas?" Sam placed the needle back down onto the table and turned to face the seraph with a deep-set frown. "I mean, even after I gave him all that blood, he still said he didn't want to be cured, that he didn't want to be human."

Castiel was silent for several seconds, and when he spoke, he echoed Sam's low, quiet tone. "Well … I see his point," he admitted. "You know, only humans can feel real joy, but … but also such profound pain." His blue eyes came to rest on Dean. "This is easier."

Dean stirred, and the seraph fell silent as the Winchester lifted his head. Black eyes blinked in surprise before the inky darkness melted away, dissipating into thin air. Dean's chest heaved in a deep breath, a small groan of confusion and pain falling from his lips, and Alex sidestepped as Sam moved forward, a flask of holy water in his hand. Dean blinked again, green eyes coming to focus on the three of them, and his voice cracked as he spoke. "You look worried, fellas."

Holy water splashed across his face, and, while the Winchester's jaw twitched in surprise, he didn't flinch in pain, nor did the beads of water evaporate in a hiss of steam. Even though Alex couldn't see it, she could hear the relieved grin on Sam's face as the flask fell back to his side. "Welcome back, Dean."

"Yeah … thanks." Dean's gaze dropped down to the ropes, and Sam immediately set to work on untying his wrists. The bonds fell away, and, with Sam's help, Dean pushed himself to his feet. His legs wobbled, threatening to buckle underneath him, and Alex shifted forward, ready to help catch the Winchester in case he fell.

"Come on." Sam slung on of Dean's arms over his shoulders to support him as he made his way towards the door. "Let's get you upstairs, huh?"

Dean muttered out a reply as the two passed by, too quiet and quick for Alex to catch, and the ex-angel turned to watch them leave. "Wow," she finally said as the Winchesters finally passed from her sight, "just like that, huh? Not going to lie, but I didn't think that was going to work." Her gaze slipped back onto the empty chair, surrounded by the devil's trap, and she reached up to rub the back of her neck with a small shake of her head. "I'm glad he's okay, though."

She felt Castiel's gaze on her cheek, a questioning, curious look, but she cleared her throat before he could ask any questions. "I'm serious," she insisted, turning back to face her mate, and a smile formed across her lips. "I was worried about him for a while there."

"I was afraid that the Mark would prevent the cure from working," Castiel agreed, and he stretched out a hand towards her. Alex stepped forward to take it, tugging the seraph after her as she led the way back out of the dungeon.

The library was empty when they arrived, and Alex paused to listen, ears straining in hopes of catching any sound of the Winchesters' locations.

"They're in Dean's bedroom." Castiel dropped her hand and crossed over to one of the tables where a large book lay. Alex followed, wrapping one arm around his waist as the seraph mindlessly pulled the book open to a random page. "He seems to be doing well."

"Good." The ex-angel leaned her head up against his shoulder, eyes tracing the intricate script that flowed across the ancient page. "Cas, listen … about what Dean said …"

"It's okay." Castiel turned the page, and Alex's gaze flitted up to his face. "Dean's back now, and we'll find our grace soon to break your deal." His head dipped down, and Alex leaned up to meet his lips. They parted slightly beneath her touch, and Alex tried to yank her head away when grace suddenly poured forward, warming her veins. The seraph's hand on her cheek kept her there, and though it only took Alex a second to struggle free, it was all the time Castiel needed.

"W-What the hell?" The warmth faded as the connection was severed, and Alex felt her eyes flash with a blue light as her anger brought her newfound grace boiling to the surface. She pushed it down, and the grace circled through her body, searching for a comfortable place to rest before finally curling around her soul. "I said don't do that! It was bad enough with Theo's grace, and he was an angel. Adina — she's _Enaaish_. Take it back!"

"Alex." Castiel easily held her at arm's length, and Alex huffed. "You're my mate. No matter how little grace I have, I will always share it. You needn't be concerned; I have enough for myself." His hand came to rest on her chest, and Alex felt the small link between the two parts of Adina's grace grow stronger. "I gave you just enough to protect you if you ever need it."

Footsteps sounded behind them, and Alex turned to see Sam enter the library, his shoulders sagging in weariness. "Hey," she greeted. Her voice was sharp, still displeased with Castiel's move, and, when Sam's head snapped up in surprise, she swallowed to soften it. "How's Dean doing?"

"He's, uh … he's still a little out of it, but better, I think." Sam crossed over to stand on the other side of the table from them. "I mean, I think this whole thing — the blood cure, the .. The all of it — it really wrecked him, you know?"

"Yeah," Castiel agreed, and Alex hummed out her own understanding.

Sam sighed, and for a moment, his voice lifted. "On the plus side, he's hungry again, so I'm just going to go pick him up a big ol' bag of crap food and stuff it in his face myself." His face turned up in a small smile of humor and relief, and he added, "Uh, you guys mind keeping an eye on him in the meantime?"

"Yeah, no problem," Alex promised.

Sam turned to go, but he paused at the sound of his name. "Sam?" Castiel stepped towards the Winchester, and Sam turned in surprise. "You realize one problem is solved, but one still remains. Dean is no longer a demon, that's true. But the Mark of Cain … that, he still has. And sooner or later, that's going to be an issue."

Sam's gaze flickered over to Alex, and his hazel eyes darkened as he shook his head. "You know what, Cas? I'm beat, man. One battle at a time, you know? So I'm gonna go grab my brother some cholesterol. And then I'm going to get drunk."

He walked away, and Alex watched him climb the metal stairs before she turned to Castiel. "Not me," she half-joked. "I've been hammered for the past two months. What I need is a nap."

"I'm going to go speak with Dean." The seraph extended his hand, a silent offering of her company, but Alex held back. Castiel's hand fell back to his side, and he gave a small nod of understanding. "I won't be long."

"Okay. I'll be in my room." Alex leaned up to kiss him, grace rising up, but the seraph covered her mouth with his own hand. His eyes sparkled, wise to her tricks, and Alex pulled away with a sour smile. "Fine. I'll keep the grace." She knocked away Castiel's hand with a small laugh before brushing past him on her way out the door. "Just come say goodbye before you leave."


	5. Paper Moon

**January 4th, 2015**  
 **Bemidji, Minnesota**

 **T** he wind whipped through her hair, and Alex squinted against the blinding snowflakes that bit at her skin. The hand that gripped her angel blade was frozen stiff, fingers numb, but she kept her warm grace tucked up tightly within her. The sunlight caused the snow to sparkle beneath her feet as she crossed the ground towards a small cottage in the woods. The angel prowled forward, jaw clenched to keep her teeth from rattling from the cold as she made her way up the front steps. There were voices inside, too garbled to understand through the wooden door, and Alex hesitated for a moment to let her grace warm her hands before she roughly shoved her way through.

The door flew open with a bang, and Alex burst into the cabin. Black eyes met hers, and for a second, everything was still. And then the room sprung to life. A demon launched himself at her, and the angel blade left Alex's hands to embed itself in his chest as the angel rose up to meet a second demon. Her hand closed around its forehead, and the possessed stranger died with a strangled cry.

Alex spun around and wrenched the blade from the other's dying heart, and the two bodies collapsed onto the wooden floor with a synchronized _thud_.

The third demon was slower, taking his time to put down his drink before he rose to his feet. "You." He spat out the word as he sized the angel up, and Alex's boots scuffed against the wooden floor as she stepped over the fallen corpses.

"Yes, me." The angel dragged her fingers mindlessly across the edge of the table. "Hell of a hiding place, by the way. Crowley's hounds had a bitch of a time finding it." Her words were nearly drowned out by howling from outside, a dangerous, haunting accentuation, and Alex's eyes narrowed in satisfaction at how the demon's eyes flittered nervously.

"We had a deal."

" _Crowley_ and you had a deal," Alex corrected. "And that was back when Dean was still icing demons. But now he's cured, and you've outlived your usefulness." She twisted the angel blade in her hands as she stepped forward, and the demon's eyes flashed black. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and Alex paused to look down to see Sam's name flashing across the screen. "Sorry. We're going to need to hurry this up."

The table legs squealed as she shoved it aside, and demon snarled as Alex's angel blade flashed in the harsh light. Flesh tore beneath its sharp edges, and the snarl died into a gasp. Fingernails dug into her wrists as the demon struggled, and droplets of blood beaded up from her pale skin. "Long live the Queen —"

Alex thrust the blade in deeper, and the tip dug into the wall behind him. Her eyes narrowed as the demon's face burned away, and it went limp beneath her. "Yeah, yeah." She yanked her weapon free, and the corpse toppled to the ground. Alex picked up his drink and slammed down the rest, tongue curling at the bitter taste. "More like long live me."

The wind threw the door wide open as she stepped outside, and Alex drew her grace up into her eyes as the scenery twisted in the corner of her vision. A dark shape emerged from thin air, eyes glowing as bright as hellfire, and stained teeth bared in a snarl as Alex knelt down to clean her blade off in the snow. "Good girl, Juliet," she praised as the hellhound prowled closer, and the black beast's ears pricked forward. Steam hung in the air as the creature exhaled, and Alex stiffened slightly as the grotesque hound loped forward to sniff at her clothes. Its hot nose nudged at her neck, and the young angel gently moved to push her away. "Good," she praised once more, and she forced herself to relax her grip on her weapon.

"You're lucky." The sound of Crowley's voice had Alex rising back to her feet to face the King of Hell. "Juliet doesn't often take a shine to people." His lips pursed in a shrill whistle, and the hellhound bounded over to its master. "Who's my pretty girl?" Crowley's voice grew uncharacteristically warm as he bent down to rub his pet's head, and the beast whined out its response. "Well?" The King of Hell straightened as he turned back to the angel. "How'd it go?"

"Great." Alex tucked her weapon into the back of her jeans as she drew her hands up into her jacket sleeves, fingers curled against the cold. "All three of Abaddon's junkies went down with no problem."

"Three?" Crowley's eyes darkened, and his voice grew sharp. "There were supposed to be four."

"Well, there were only three when I got here," the angel retorted. "Isn't that right, Jules?" The hellhound paid her no attention, and Alex's gaze turned back onto the demon. "Point is I did my job, and I should be getting back. You said you had something for me?"

"Of course." Crowley reached into his pocket, and Alex's eyes widened in surprise as he pulled out a glass vial filled with swirling blue grace. "Don't worry," the demon promised when Alex took a hesitant step backwards. "It came from one of Castiel's unruly runaways. A young one; Zuriel, I believe. I'm sure he won't be missed."

"Zuriel?" The name tasted familiar on her tongue, and Alex paused. "Are you sure?"

"Knew him, did we?"

"Yeah — no. No. I think we'd met before. Once." Alex shook her head, dismissing the thought, and her voice grew stern with conviction. "I don't want his grace. You shouldn't have done that."

The demon waved off her concern. "Shouldn't, couldn't, wouldn't. Point is, I did. The more grace you have, the stronger you are, and the less I have to intervene." He held out the vial, shaking it enticingly, but still the angel held back. "Take it. What you have now's already draining away, isn't it? How much longer will that last? A day, maybe two? At the rate you're burning through it, you won't last the week."

He shook the vial again, and Alex's fingers hesitantly closed around the glass. She tucked it deep into her jacket pocket, safe from harm and out of sight. "Just take me back to the car." She crouched down to dig out a six pack of beer from the snow beneath her feet, something she had buried before she had approached the cabin, and the second her fingers closed around the handle, the world went black.

The ground spun from beneath her feet, and then the sun was back, hot and heavy on her clothed shoulders. The angel rolled up her sleeves at the sudden change in temperature, and she felt the vial sway against her side. Crowley's gaze dropped down to it, but it lingered for less than a second. "Think about it," he advised, and then he was gone.

Alex's phone rang again, and this time she answered it. "Hey, Dean. What's up?"

"How long does it take to pick up some snacks?" came the half-humored response. "You said you were running to the gas station on the corner."

"Uh, yeah." Alex's attention turned onto the sleek shape of the Impala beside her, and she hurried over to it, digging the keys out of her pocket as she paused beside the driver's door. "I, uh, I just got back. You guys still where you were?"

"Yeah. Hurry up, would ya?"

"Sure thing." Alex hung up the phone and shoved it back into her pocket as she ducked down to pull free the plastic shopping bag from the passenger seat. The beer clanked as she shifted it to her other hand, kicking the Impala door closed behind her, and then she stepped over the concrete parking block and onto the grass. She could see the lake just down the paved walking path, the glittering blue water broken only by the outlines of two men seated in canvas camping chairs.

They didn't notice her approach until she cleared her throat, and Sam pulled off his sunglasses to look up into her face. "Hey," he greeted. "How'd it go?"

Dean's welcome was to simply take the beer, and Alex let him have it with no complaints. "I was just picking up snacks," she joked. "It went as fine as it could have gone."

"How'd you get the beer so cold?" Dean took one for himself and set the rest onto the grass between him and his brother. "It's like fifty degrees out here."

Alex shrugged, and she hurried over to her own seat when Sam picked up the cardboard container with a confused, "Is that snow?"

"Pfft, what? No." Alex sank into her own chair and reached for her snacks to hide the flush in her face. "It was like that when I bought it." She cleared her throat, intent on changing the topic before they pried too far.

Thankfully, the brothers fell silent, and Alex turned her attention out onto the lake. The parking lot behind her had been half full, but the lake was still empty; despite the unusually warm January weather, it was apparently not warm enough yet to be out on the water. "Hey," Dean finally began, and Alex cast him a glance out of the corner of her eye. "I need to ask you something."

Sam looked over at his brother in surprise. "Shoot."

"You've been … kicked, bit, scratched, stabbed, possessed, killed … and you sprain your fucking elbow?" Dean's voice lifted in amusement, and Alex chuckled under her breath.

Sam, however, just rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Dude, it was more than a sprain, alright?" he insisted, and he looked down at the black sling around his left arm. "And it was a fucking demon, but …"

"But what?" Dean's eyebrow cocked from behind his sunglasses as he turned to face his brother more fully. "That sling come with a slice of crybaby pie on the side?" He scoffed as Sam laughed, and for a moment the two fell silent.

Sam studied his brother for a moment before his voice took on a concerned tone. "How you doing?"

"Golden, man." Dean leaned back in his chair, and his head tipped in Sam's direction when his brother made a disbelieving noise. "Seriously, man, I am." His face grew serious as he shook his head. "You know, taking some 'we time' … best decision we ever made."

Alex felt his gaze turn onto her, and she gave a half-hearted nod, unable to fully related to the Winchesters' time off. She turned back to the lake as beer bottles clinked together in a toast, and she heard Sam add an amused, "Here that."

"So." Alex turned back to the brothers just in time to watch them both take a long drink. "Did either of you guys see that thing in the paper this morning?"

Dean nodded, and Sam let out a long breath. "Maybe it was an animal kill," he suggested, but the hesitation in his voice lent itself to his own skepticism.

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Alex was quicker. "It was _three_ kills," she reminded, "all within the same town in the same month." Sam frowned in reluctant agreement, and the young angel added, "Maybe we should call some guys, have them take care of it."

"Good. Smart," Dean agreed, and Sam chimed in with a, "Done." The two fell silent, and after a second or two, Dean spoke again. "Or … we could be in and out. It's a milk run."

Alex looked back in time to see the Winchester shrug, but Sam scoffed loudly. "Right, because that happens … never."

Dean leaned forward in his seat, and he took off his sunglasses to look his brother in the eye. "Look, Sam," he began, his voice taking on a tone of earnestness, "what we're doing here, it's good, okay? All of us hanging out. But I need to work … I need this."

Sam took off his glasses as well, and Dean took a sip of his beer while he waited for a reply. For a second, Sam was quiet, a pensive frown upon his face, but with reluctant hesitation, he finally began, "If things go sideways … I mean, like an inch, you gotta give me the heads-up."

"Done." Relief flashed across Dean's face. "You got my word." He jumped to his feet and gathered up his things, and Alex turned her head to watch him hurry off towards the Impala, chair in one hand, the cooler of beer in the other.

Sam sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and Alex pushed her own self to her feet with a shake of her head. "I'll keep a close eye on him," she promised. "I had to deal with him as demon; I think I can handle him now." She patted the Winchester on the knee, and, when Sam merely grunted, she folded up her chair and followed after Dean.

...

 **Durham, Washington**

 **T** he station door swung open, a welcome relief from the west coast wind, and Alex hurried inside, shaking off the cold as she pressed herself between Sam and Dean. Both were dressed in game warden uniforms, outfits long ago acquired, but Alex was dressed differently, her normal black and white attire standing in stark contrast to the muted greens and browns of her companions. She dug into her pockets for her badge as the Winchesters did the same, and the man Alex assumed to be the sheriff jumped up to his feet at their appearance. His hand extended out, and when Dean handed him his badge, the sheriff's face softened in relief. "Gentlemen," he greeted with a grin, and after a second his gaze flickered down to Alex, noticing the smaller hunter for the first time. "Well, I'm not gonna lie. We're damn glad to see you." He handed Dean's ID back to him as he added, "You boys must come up on stuff like this all the time."

"Oh yeah," both brothers agreed in unison, and Alex chimed in with a half-hearted, "Definitely."

The dark-haired man chuckled. "Hell, I've seen raccoons in rec rooms and bears in swimming pools. But this? You tell me."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, and a short silence followed as the sheriff waited for a further explanation. "Oh." Dean blinked in surprise and looked down at Alex for help, but the young hunter could only offer up a shrug. "Oh," he repeated. "Well, uh … Where do we start?" He chuckled as he sent a sideways look at his brother. "What with, uh, logging."

"Ice caps," Sam added.

"coins," Dean finished. "Yeah." The sheriff's face twisted in skepticism, and the Winchester finished with, "Obama."

"You know what?" Sam jumped in before Dean could dig himself a deeper hole. "Maybe — maybe, uh, you could walk us through the attacks. Any similarities, anything weird?"

"Only thing weird about them was how similar they were." The sheriff turned away from Dean with a shrug, and his gaze dropped down to the folders on his desk. "Folks torn clean through. Hearts … absent. Consumed, most likely," he added when Alex made a questioning noise.

"And there were no witnesses?"

The sheriff shook his head in response to Dean's question. "Well, the town square attack, the parking lot … those were real late. But the bar? Hell, with how jammed the place was, you'd think somebody other than Tommy would've seen something."

Alex blinked, and Dean leaned forward slightly in interest. "And what did he see?" he pushed.

"Honestly, not much." The sheriff shrugged, clearly not fond of whatever the witness had told him. "Now, Tommy ain't exactly what we call a reliable witness. And he's telling anybody who'll listened he saw some girl go out back with Barker, and she got torn up, too."

"So there was a second victim." Alex's words sounded more like a statement than a question, and the sheriff's brown gaze hesitantly turned down onto her.

"Well, sure … except Tommy's a drunk. There's no body, no DNA, no blood trail, no nothing to suggest that." He shook his head discouragingly. "You know how drunks are. Unreliable." A man walked up, silently handing the sheriff some paperwork, and Alex's lips pursed as the sheriff cleared his throat. "Excuse me one second."

"I've known drunks more reliable than you," she muttered under her breath as the man walked away, and once he was fully out of earshot, she turned to look up at the Winchesters. "So. Missing heart sounds pretty wolfy to me."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "But this is pretty brazen, even for a werewolf."

Dean nodded, his face set into a grim line. "You think it was the girl?" he asked, and Alex grunted out her concurrence.

"Let's go find out." Sam led the way out of the police station, and Alex followed close behind, casting a look over her shoulder at Dean on the way out. The Winchester seemed to be on his best behavior, but something in the gleam of his eyes had the angel hesitant about giving him her full trust on this hunt.

She glanced over at Sam, but the Winchester didn't meet her gaze as he slid into the Impala. With a small shake of her head, Alex did the same. "So, Tommy the town drunk, then. Did the papers say which bar he was at?"

"Panheads." Dean spoke up as he started the car. "Bike bar just off of Main Street. I've already looked into it a bit." Smugness lined his voice, and the Impala purred as he pulled out of the parking lot. "It's not far from here."

Alex reached down to pull her angel blade out from her duffle bag which lay wedged between the seats. "Luckily, werewolves are easily dealt with." The blade twisted in her hands with ease, and she pushed down the thin grace within her that rose at the touch of the warm metal. Her hand brushed her green jacket that lay beside her as she straightened up, and she jerked back at the bulk of the smooth glass vial of grace that still lay hidden within.

Dean chuckled at something Sam had said, and Alex turned her attention back onto the conversation. "It won't," he promised as the Impala rounded the corner, and after a beat, his voice grew serious. "It's under control, Sam. Ah." The car pulled into a parking lot, and the engine stopped as the Impala was turned off. "Here we are."

Alex stepped out of the car to eye the grungy bar with a frown. Motorcycles lined the front, their chrome fenders glinting in the sun. "This is it?" Her gaze turned to the side of the building, searching for the alley that had been the scene of the crime.

Neither Winchester answered, and Alex closed the car door. "Maybe I should take the lead on this one," she suggested over to the Winchesters, taking a moment to look the brothers up and down through the window of the car. "Unless you want to do the talking in those ridiculous uniforms."

Sam and Dean looked down at their outfits, and Dean's lips twisted into a small frown. "We'll meet you back here when you're done." The Impala started up again, and Alex gave them a small wave as the hunters disappeared back down the road.

She pushed her way into the Panhead, pupils dilating to take in as much of the dingy light as possible. "Hey." She approached the bar, fingers digging into her pockets to find her badge. "Agent Sykes. FBI." She held out the fake identification long enough for the bartender's eyes to grow wide before she shoved it back into her pocket. "I'm looking for a witness to a crime— Tommy. Is he here?"

From the way the dark-haired man's eyes flickered to the corner of the bar, Alex knew the answer long before his mouth opened to speak. "He's right there."

The young angel turned to follow his gaze to a ragged man at a small table. He was working through a large pint of beer, his gaze distant. "Thank you." Alex dipped her head as she stepped away, and she reached for her badge one more time as she approached the wooden table. "Tommy?" She waited for the man to look up before she held out her identification. "My name is Agent Brianna Sykes. I'm with the FBI. May I sit down?" Tommy gave an uncommitted nod, and Alex sank down into the metal chair. "You know why I'm here?"

"You're here about Barker." Tommy took a sip of his beer, and Alex nodded. "I told the cops what I saw. They didn't believe me."

His blue eyes hardened, ready to defend himself, and Alex held out a hand to calm him. "I know they didn't," she soothed. "But I'm not the cops. Tell me. How did you know the vic — Barker," she quickly corrected.

Tommy gave a half-hearted shrug. "Barker and I have been raising hell, chasing tail, and riding for a long time," he began. "Part of him always knew when his clock ran out, it wasn't gonna be pretty. To go out like that? By some animal?" He shook his head, gaze dropping to the table. "Just ain't right."

Alex nodded in silent agreement, and she folded her hands on the table in front of her. "So what, uh — do you mind telling me what you remember?"

"It was just another party, you know?" The man's calloused fingers drummed on the glass handle of his drink. "Barker went out back. The next thing you know, everyone's yelling and screaming, and he's all torn up."

"The sheriff mentioned that you had seen a girl." Alex leaned forward in curiosity. "He said you thought she was killed, too." Her head tipped as Tommy sharply shook his head, and her voice grew quiet. "You're afraid no one will believe you. But the things that I have seen — even I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been there myself."

"Well, you don't live in this town," Tommy retorted, and Alex lips pursed together at the interruption. "You don't have to deal with the ridicule."

"All that I'm saying is that you may not be as crazy as everyone thinks." Tommy hesiated again, and Alex prompted, "Just assume that I will believe everything you say. Tell me what you saw."

"Okay. The other night, just after Barker … I was taking a ride past the old Sturges farm. You know, thinking about the rides me and Barker used to go on. I-I saw her."

"Her?" Alex repeated. "Who? Saw who?"

"The — the girl. The one Barker left with. She was just standing there, all bloody, watching me. So — so I turned the hell around. I-I ran back, damn, you know, she — but … but she was just gone. Like, _gone_."

"Like I ghost," Alex finished.

"Hell yeah." Tommy gave an ernest nod. "No, I don't give one red cent in hell what the cops say. She was there. She was eaten. She's a freaking ghost." Tommy swallowed the last of his drink, and Alex pushed herself to her feet with a nod. "You think I'm crazy."

"No, I don't." Alex pushed in her chair as she straightened her jacket. "Thank you for your time. You've been a lot of help." She dipped her head in thanks before she walked back out of the bar.

The Impala was there waiting, the engine a smooth rumble, and Alex slid into the backseat. "How'd it go?" Sam turned to look back at her, and Alex busied herself with unbuttoning the top button of her shirt before she replied.

"He confirmed that he saw a girl, same one that went out with Barker before he died, and the next night he saw her at Sturge's Farm covered in blood. Said she was there, but when he looked away for a second, she was suddenly gone. He's convinced that she is a ghost."

"Ghosts don't shred people like that," Dean reminded as he threw the car into drive, and Alex pulled her duffle bag up onto the seat next to her.

"Yeah, usually not," she agreed. "Or, at least they don't just go for the heart. So best bet is werewolf. Or the ghost of one," she added as a joke, but when neither Winchester gave any indication that they heard, she rolled her eyes and turned her attention down onto her phone.

...

 **T** he sun had disappeared far beyond the horizon by the time the Impala pulled up alongside the old, dilapidated farmhouse. Alex straightened her thick, grey jacket as she stepped out of the car, fingers curling inside her sleeves as her boots crunched against the thin layer of snow that covered the brown grass. She tucked her angel blade into the back of her jeans as Dean got out of the Impala, followed closely by Sam. "Silver?" she asked as Dean popped out the magazine of his pistol to check the ammunition, and the Winchester grunted in acknowledgement.

"If this Tommy says he saw the same girl a second time …" Dean shook his head, his green eyes flashing in the thin moonlight. "It means this fleabag ain't done chowing down on Sons of Anarchy just yet."

"Guess she likes bad boys," Sam half-joked as he checked his own weapon, and Alex's attention moved across the farm, searching for any signs of life.

She heard Dean chuckle at his brother's quip. "Well, wait til she gets a load of us." He snapped the clip back into his gun before he pulled out his flashlight, and Alex let the thin strand of grace fall away from her eyes, letting her path be lit by the brother's light instead. She followed them down towards the barn as she drew her own gun from inside her jacket pocket. A wave of the pistol from Sam had her circling off around towards the back, her boots sinking loudly into the thin layer of snow. She kept low and moved as softly as she could, back pressed up against the rough wood of the barn to keep to the thin strip of bare grass. She could hear a person inside; a low, urgent female voice. It was drowned out by footsteps, and Alex whirled around to find Sam close behind. The Winchester held a finger up against his lips, and Alex stepped aside to let him take the lead.

"Stop ignoring my calls." The voice became clearer as they circled around the back of the barn. "Pick up the phone and call me right now. This isn't how it's supposed to go. Look, I've been —" Suddenly the woman stopped, and Alex slipped through the door, eyes widening in the dim light to watch as a shape looked up, head tipped back to scent the air as a growl rumbled through the darkness.

The woman made a mad dash for the door, and Alex broke into a run after her, her gun falling to her side as she sprinted across the barn. She heard a shout of surprise as the werewolf ran straight into Dean, and she slid to a stop at the Winchester's surprised, "What?" as he pinned the stranger against his chest.

An arm reached past her to spin the werewolf around, and Sam's flashlight illumined the blonde's face. "Kate?"

Alex looked between Sam and Dean, surprised by the look of recognition and disappointment. "Kate?" she repeated. "You know her?" Her eyes narrowed as she studied the young woman, and she added, "She's a werewolf."

"Yeah." Dean's lips were set in a tight line. "We know." His flashlight swept the room and landed on a coil of rope that lay in the corner, but his attention was immediately drawn back to Kate as the werewolf tried to bolt. "Whoa, whoa, whoa." Dean blocked her escape, and Sam's arms wrapped around the woman. "Not happening, Twilight. Alex." His head went up, chin jerking towards the rafters above their head, and the angel immediately understood.

Her gun dropped onto the moldy hay as she swung herself up onto a dilapidated wagon and from there up onto the rafters. The thin wood creaked beneath her weight, and Alex stretched out a hand to balance herself as Sam tossed her the coil of rope. "Why couldn't we just tie her up in a corner?" she muttered to herself as she secured the rope and swung herself back down. She landed silently, her complaint unheard, and she walked over to retriever her gun while the Winchesters secured Kate so her hands were secured up above her head.

"I know who you are." The werewolf's voice was sharp and defiant, and Alex took a moment to clear her weapon, feigning disinterest while Dean answered with a, "Congratulations," before he turned away. Kate blinked in surprise at the snark, and after a second she added, "After what happened at school, I thought you'd let me go."

"The hell you talking about?" Alex looked over at Sam, hoping for answers.

"You were with Ashiel." The dim light illuminated the young Winchester's sharp features as he shot Alex a quick look. "She was turned into a werewolf by her roommates. We let her go because she _promised_ she could control it." His hazel eyes narrowed as he turned back to Kate. "Of course, that was before you started dropping bodies."

"What?"

"Guy at the bar saw you before you went all Wolverine on his buddy." Dean's voice was smug as he addressed the werewolf, and Alex tucked her gun into her jacket. "So … surprise. Here we are."

"Kate, you said you were going straight." Disappointment lined Sam's voice as he turned to face the blonde. "What happened?"

"I ... guess things change." The werewolf's lips curled up into a snarl as she regarded the tall hunter. "Being this …" Her anger faltered, and her gaze dropped to the ground. "I tried to be strong, but the hunger was too much. Too hard. It's not like anyone gave me a handbook on how to be a werewolf."

"Looks like you're doing a pretty good job so far," Dean retorted with a scoff. "Break a few hearts, then you eat 'em."

Kate's gaze swung over onto Dean. "I was on my own. I evolved."

"Evolved?" Alex's grey eyes flashed silver in the moonlight. "Is that what you call murdering innocent people?"

Her words were met with a silent snarl, teeth bared, but Kate faltered with a response, and eventually her gaze just dropped onto the ground. "Whatever you're gonna do, just … just do it."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, and with a shrug, Dean reached back to pull out his pistol, the hammer back with a loud click, and at the same time, Alex reached back to draw her weapon. She watched as Dean lifted the muzzle of his gun, but Sam reached out, his large hand pushing the barrel back down. "Hey," he started, voice laced with concern. "You know what? Let me do it."

Dean's head snapped back in surprise. "Why?"

"Because … because I think you should sit this one out." Sam's gaze turned onto Alex, eyes catching on her blade. "The both of you," he clarifed. "You're not ready to get back into this."

Alex scoffed loudly. "What? No way — you're not benching _me_ , Sam." She jerked a thumb up towards Dean, adding, "He's the one who just got off the crazy train. Me? I'm fine."

Sam's phone rang, and the Winchester's lips set into a tight line as he moved to answer it, but before Alex could declare the argument over, Dean turned to look down at her. "Right. Because I was the only one who was off the reservation. _I_ was a demon. What — what exactly is your excuse?"

"Oh, let's see." Alex's eyes rolled up into the back of her head as she feigned contemplation. "I had to babysit your sorry ass, and, oh yeah, the King of Hell had me under his fingernail. You remember that part, don't you? Or did the black eyes twist your memories, too?" She watched as Dean's eyes flashed with anger, and her fingers tightened around her weapon. "What are you going to do?" she taunted. "Come on, Dean. I told you, you're done pushing me around."

"Whoa, whoa." A hand shoved her backwards, and Alex stumbled back in surprise as Sam pushed his way in between them, his fingers splayed to keep them apart. "Hey! Cool it, alright? We've got a job to do. I just got a call from the sheriff. There's been another animal attack down at the high school. He says the body was still warm — no less than an hour dead. Same M.O. as the other three."

"So you don't think she did it." Dean's voice was flat, and Alex echoed his sentiment with a tight face.

"Look …" Sam started, "I don't know, okay? But as far as I'm concerned —" The sound of a snapping rope and the scuffling of feet had him cutting off in surprise, and Alex spun around in time to watch Kate sprint out the door.

"Dammit!" Dean rushed past her, almost knocking Alex off balance, and the angel hissed out her frustration as she took a step after him. "Stop her!" The Winchester wheeled around, and Alex's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the hunter's command.

"How? I don't have wings, Whorechester. Sasquatch here is probably faster than me." Alex jerked a finger back towards Sam as Dean scowled at the nickname, but his attention was directed to something laying among the hay. "What's that?"

"It's her phone." Dean flipped it open, tucking his flashlight into his pocket as the screen lit up. "Let's see who she was booty calling when we pulled up." He pressed the phone against his ear as he listened, and Alex turned to look back at Sam.

"Okay, so if she's not the one who killing the bikers, then why didn't she try and deny it?" Alex glanced back towards the door through which the werewolf had disappeared, and she twisted her weapon in her hands as she paused to listen, cautious of any potential attacks.

"Maybe she's running with a pack?" Sam suggested with a shrug. "You know, trying to protect them?"

"Well, that's one hell of a price to pay. She was about two seconds away from taking a dirt nap." Dean shoved the red flip phone back into his pocket with a dark look. "Last phone call was to a room in the Lincoln Motel. That's got to be where she's heading."

"Great. Let's get going, then." Alex hurried back out towards the Impala, and a glance behind her showed that the two Winchesters were following. "So this definitely means we're dealing with more than one werewolf," she restated as Dean unlocked the car. "This day just keeps getting better and better, huh?"

Neither Winchester responded, and Alex slid into the backseat as the car purred to life. "So." Dean turned the car onto the road, and Alex tucked her gun into the top of her duffle bag. "What was that about me not being ready?"

"W-What?" Sam looked up sharply in surprise, and he glanced back at Alex; the angel offered no sign of support, her own eyebrow cocked in curiosity. "I'm — I wasn't — I wasn't trying to start something," he insisted. "I was just saying — I thought that was the whole point of us taking a break. You know?"

"Oh, no. No, yeah. I get that." Dean's fingers drummed lightly on the thin steering wheel. "And you know, there's no worries there. But, I gotta ask." His green eyes turned onto his brother, intensity hiding behind a mask of curiosity. "What about you? Are you ready?"

"What about me, what?" Sam's eyes stretched wide in surprise at his brother's question. "Why — why wouldn't I be ready?"

"Lester."

"Lester?" Even in the dark, Alex could see the confusion etched deep into the younger brother's face, and he reached up to run a hand through his hair as he shook his head in disbelief. "You're serious? This is about Lester?"

"Um, don't get me wrong," Dean was quick to defend, and Alex almost scoffed at how quick he was to back off around his brother after the near full-blown altercation in the barn. "I'm not — I'm not trying to start anything either, okay? I'm just saying … maybe we oughta talk about that."

This time, Alex couldn't hold back a disgruntled snort, and Sam's lips pursed together tightly. "Okay, except there's nothing to talk about."

"Okay." Dean shrugged, and Sam echoed back his own pointed affirmation. Silence followed, broken only by the Impala's purr. "I just figured," Dean finally began again, "since we're opening up veins that maybe you'd want to talk about the guy who you made sell his soul."

"The guy who you then killed, right?" Sam's voice was ripe with indignation. "I mean, that's the same guy we're talking about?"

"I was a demon."

"What? You, a demon?" Alex scoffed loudly from the backseat, drawing both brother's attention onto her. "Oh, I totally forgot."

"Right." Their eyes met in the rearview mirror. "And what exactly is your excuse for killing his wife?" His words had Alex leaning forward, mouth opening to retort, but a quick, sharp look of warning from his brother had her snapping her jaw shut.

"Hey, hey." Once again, Sam was quick to cut in on their bickering. "What do you want from me, Dean? Look, I — I'm not happy about it, okay? But I needed to find you. The both of you." He looked back at Alex, and the angel's gaze dropped to her lap. "So if I had to … to bend a few rules …"

"Go dark."

"Go dark," Sam repeated. "Sure. Label it as you want."

"Look, man, again I'm not complaining, okay?" The Impala turned onto the highway with a roar, and Dean offered up half of a shrug. "In fact, I'm doing just the opposite of complaining. I just … you know, between Lester and the others —"

"There weren't others!"

"Okay." Dean lifted his hands at Sam's defensive snap. "Either way, maybe we both needed the time off. Isn't that right, Pip?"

Alex frowned at the pointedness hidden his words, a unspoken and hesitant accusation, but she intentionally forced her voice to be light. "Totally. It's been nice not having to worry about being stabbed or shot or ripped to complete and utter shreds." She leaned back against the leather seats, adding, "So I'm guessing that we're spending the night on a stakeout at the Lincoln Motel — in the car, not in an actual room."

"Bingo." The Impala turned into town, and Alex slouched further down into her seat as music filled the cabin. She could feel Dean's anger still prickling at the air, a force almost matched by Sam's frustration, and she leaned her head back against the leather seat as her eyes slipped closed. If she was lucky, maybe she could grab some sleep before another passive aggressive confrontation arose.

...

 **A** lex slumped down in the backseat of the Impala, temple pressed up against the glass as she kept watch on the stretch of doors that belonged to the Lincoln Motel. Dean sat in front of her, his attention equally enraptured, as they awaited Sam's return from the front desk. The parking lot was already empty despite the low, newly born sunrise, and the angel shifted uncomfortably on the leather as yet another car pulled past and disappeared down the road.

The unmistakable form of Sam Winchester appeared in the office doorway, and Alex straightened up, curious as to what the hunter had uncovered. "Alright." The car door opened and closed behind him as Sam slid into the passenger seat. "So the, uh, clerk says a blonde rolled up into room 3 just before sunup."

"She alone?"

"He thinks so," Sam agreed quietly, and Alex peered between the two brothers to count down to the third door. Her stolen grace bubbled up within her, but the angel firmly pressed it down even as her fingers closed around the cool glass of Crowley's vial. Realizing what she was doing, Alex yanked her hand away in disgust, and in her brief moment of distraction, Dean let out a curious noise.

"She's on the move." The car doors opened and shut, and Alex dropped the vial onto the floor of the car in surprise as she hurried after them. Her eyes scanned the parking lot, locking onto the small shape of a woman, her hood drawn up over her face. She was headed away from them, her hands shoved deep into her pockets, and Alex moved after Dean on silent feet.

"Where do you think she's going?" The angel kept her voice low as they trailed after the werewolf, and she reached back to draw up the hood of her own sweatshirt as she rolled down the sleeves of the overlaying jacket. She watched as the girl paused, head tipped back, and Alex instinctively did the same, nostrils flaring as she scented the air.

"Come on." A hand brushing across her shoulder had Alex glancing back in time to see Sam move past her. "She's heading towards the park."

Alex followed Sam and Dean across the street, hands deep in her pockets as they stepped onto the paved trails. A biker rode past, stirring up droplets of slush in his path, and Alex turned her head away to avoid the cold slurry. "This is why we should only work cases in the south during the winter," she muttered to herself, shaking off the cold, and she cast a look up towards the brothers in case either had heard.

They hadn't; their attention was focused on the path ahead of them, and Alex scanned the bikers and pedestrians before her gaze once more fell onto the hooded blonde. "What's she doing?" Sam asked as the werewolf turned down a dirt trail after a jogger, and Alex's eyes narrowed.

"Looking for breakfast." Dean quickened his pace, and Alex did the same, breaking into a half-jog to keep up with the brothers' long legs. Sam's hands came back to draw his gun, and Dean did the same as they turned the corner. "Kate!"

"It's over," Sam added, gun cocked, and Alex balled her fists at her side as the hooded woman spun around in surprise. Blue eyes stretched wide at the sight of them, and Alex's fingers uncurled slightly at the round, unknown face.

"Oh, God!" The small blonde's voice stuttered in fear at the sight of the brother's guns. "Please, don't. I'll give you anything you want."

Sam slowly lowered his gun, finger still poised on the trigger as he warily looked the strange woman up and down. "Where's Kate?" he demanded as Dean slowly uncocked his weapon, and Alex lifted her grace upwards defensively.

"You were just in her motel room," Dean added roughly when all they received was a terrified stare.

"W-What?" The woman looked over at Sam before her wide eyes fell down onto Alex, begging for help. "T-That's _my_ room."

"Why were you following that guy?" Alex jerked her head back towards the path down which the jogger had disappeared, and the stranger's gaze snapped in that direction. "Test her."

"Robbie? I-I know him! I just wanted to surprise him —" The blonde's eyes stretched wide as Alex's words suddenly registered. "Test me?" she repeated. "Test me for what?" Dean stepped forward from Alex's side, tucking his gun back into his pants, and the flash of silver caught in the early morning light as he removed a knife from his jacket pocket. "No!" The stranger's foot slipped in the snow as she stepped back. "Help! Somebody help me!"

"Just take it easy," Dean warned, a hand stretching out to soothe her, and the blonde let out a quiet whimper.

"I don't want to die," she whispered, and Alex's eyes narrowed in confusion. She opened her mouth, ready to explain their intentions, but the stranger's eyes suddenly flashed yellow. Her lips curled up, white teeth sharpened into fangs, and Alex shied away instinctively as the werewolf lept at Dean. The weight of her attack knocked the Winchester off of his feet, and the two crashed into the snow. Nexto her, Sam suddenly hit the ground, thrown back as the werewolf launched herself at him next, and Alex flung herself forward as the woman's hands wrapped themselves around Sam's neck.

"Stop it!" A voice broke through their scuffle, and Alex hissed as claws dug through her cheek. "Stop it!" Suddenly the weight was pulled away, and the angel snarled in rage as she lashed out at the vanishing werewolf. "Don't!" Alex brushed the blood out of her face just in time to see their attacker running away, her retreat blocked by Kate. She stood in front of them, head held high in face of Dean's gun, cocked and loaded, and the angel pushed herself to her feet. "She's my sister!"

Dean rushed past, his actions knocking the werewolf off balance, and Kate turned to watch Dean go with wide, desperate eyes. "What do you mean sister?" Alex's demand had Kate turning back to face her, and Alex tried to stem the blood flow with a palm.

"What do you think it means?" Kate snapped. "Tasha is my sister."

"I lost her." Dean stalked back up to them, his face dark at his luck. His gun turned onto Kate, the hammer cocked as his frown deepened in anger. "Kate, why is your sister a werewolf, huh?"

"Hey, hey." Sam reached out to lower Dean's weapon. "Let her talk." Dean jerked his gun out of his brother's reach, and Sam's lips pursed. "Put the gun down."

"Why?" Dean retorted. "So she can run again? Nuh-uh."

"She just saved our lives." Sam's reply was quiet, and Dean's weapon wavered as he considered his brother's words. His gaze turned onto Kate, whose eyes were wide in a plea, and he reluctantly lowered his gun, muttering a curse beneath his breath as he reached down to brush sludge off of his jeans.

Kate's blue eyes flickered before her gaze turned onto Sam, but when she spoke, her voice was firm with conviction. "My sister is a werewolf because I turned her into one."

Alex watched as Dean's finger tightened on his gun, but he forced himself to keep it lowered. "Okay, this is the part where you help yourself out."

"I-I don't care, alright?" Kate shook her head. "I'm sick of the lies."

"Let me get this straight." Dean lifted up the back of his jacket as he tucked his weapon back into his jeans, his face a mixture of disgust and disappointment. "We let you run because we take pity on you, and you turn around and you start making pups? You start killing people?!"

"It's not like that!" Kate's voice rose to meet Dean's shout. "I'm no killer!"

"Well, the way I remember it from the snuff film you left us, is that you killed your boyfriend's best friend—"

"That's because Brian went crazy." The werewolf cut Dean off, hands on her hips, and the hunter's lips pursed together at the interruption. "I had no other choice."

"Okay, Kate …" Sam started softly, "if all this wasn't you, then who was it? Your sister?" Kate hesitated, her mouth half open as she searched for a reply, and Sam pressed, "Did you sister do this, Kate?"

The werewolf gave no response, and Dean scoffed loudly. "Really?" he snapped. "You almost took a bullet for her, and you got nothing?"

Alex pulled away her hand, frowning down at the crimson blood that stained her fingers, and Sam loudly cleared his throat as a biker sped past. "Hey, guys? Can, we, uh, can we take this somewhere else? We need to clean Alex up, and she needs to get into some dry clothes." His hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Alex looked down at her appearance, eyebrows lifting in surprise to find her clothes wet with icy slush. A brush of wind cut through the trees, and she suppressed a sudden shiver.

"Oh, yeah, sure." Dean's green eyes flashed across her, but his voice still held a sarcastic undertone. "Let's go grab some coffee, maybe some bear hearts." He motioned back towards the path with his hand, indicating that Kate should walk where they could see her. "Let's party."

...

 **T** wenty minutes later, Alex was curled up in the booth beside Sam, dressed in a thick grey sweatshirt and dry jeans. A cup of coffee was situated between her hands, its warmth tingling her fingertips. Dean and Kate were approaching the table with their own drinks, the Winchester's lips pursed together in displeasure as he sat down next to the werewolf. He set his drink onto the table as he glanced over at Alex, and the angel straightened up in her seat under his stare. Kate's fingers toyed nervously her mug as she looked between the two brothers, and, after a second of contemplation, she spoke. "Just so you know, Brian's the reason I carry this."

"Hey," Dean started as a warning as the werewolf reached around back, and Kate hesitated, her free hand coming up in a gesture of innocence.

"I'm just showing you something," she promised as she pulled free a small, silver dagger. The metal glowed in the light, and the werewolf twisted it so the hunters could see. "In case I ever lose it, like Brian did, you won't have to kill me."

Alex watched as Kate tucked the blade back away, and her grey eyes flickered over to Dean as the Winchester scoffed. "Yeah, well, saying it and doing it are two different things."

"I'm serious. And whether you believe me or not, I've never hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. And I have never, _ever_ eaten a human heart."

Something in her words gave Alex pause, and her fingers drummed curiously on the side of her cup as she took a moment to study the werewolf; she looked like she was telling the truth. The quiet hum in Sam's chest confirmed that he was thinking the same thing. "Guess that explains all the dead chickens that I found back at the barn," he finally said.

Kate nodded. "I eat what I can find, what people won't miss, hopefully. Small game, deer. I meditate. Yoga helps." Her face darkened at Dean's snort, and she retorted, "You laugh, but … I'll pretty much try anything to keep that side of me under control."

Dean's eyebrow remained cocked, but eventually he shrugged, set on humoring her. "Well, that is great, Kate. It really is. And it's nice to see that, uh, this hippie-dippie new age crap has had such a positive influence over your sister."

"Tasha … she's a different story." The werewolf's chest heaved in a discouraging sigh. "After I left school, I was … adrift. Lost. Not really sure where to go, what to do, so … I went someplace safe. I went home. But …even though I'd be good, I started to think about my family. How safe were they going to be? I was a werewolf. And then, of course, there was the two of you." Kate's gaze moved between Sam and Dean. "What if you two showed up and tried to kill me? I couldn't risk that."

Alex hummed out an agreement, and Kate's shoulders fell. "So … I walked away. Never called, never wrote, just … started a new life. Until one day, I saw a posting on my sister's Facebook page. Tasha had been in a really bad car accident. The doctors didn't think she was gonna make it. We were always so close, so … I had to go say goodbye. Then it hit me." The werewolf's eyes flashed distantly at the memory. "This curse that I had, that had brought me nothing by pain and suffering, could actually finally maybe do something good."

"So you bit her."

For the briefest of moments, Kate's voice rose in indignation. "Turning Tasha into a werewolf, it would have healed her wounds, saved her life, given her a second chance. At first, I thought I'd failed, that …" She shook her head as she trailed off, and silence fell for several seconds before she cleared her throat. "That even though werewolves heal quickly, that it was too late for Tasha. Then she woke up, not sick anymore, but okay. She had so many questions. It was a lot to swallow. But we had each other, and that felt like enough. Or … or so I thought. My sister, she gave in to everything that I had warned her about. And … and I knew, even if I couldn't bring myself to admit it then, I knew I was losing her."

Kate's gaze dropped down onto the table, and Sam's voice softened in sympathy. "So back at the barn, that was all just an act to protect Tasha?"

"She's family. And yeah, worth eating a bullet for." Her words were spoken towards the ground, not noticing how the Winchesters exchanged a glance over her head, and Alex's gaze fell onto her drink as the werewolf finally looked up. "And she needs me now more than ever. This is _my_ mess. I gotta clean it up."

"Ad how do you plan on doing that, Kate?" Sam leaned forward as the werewolf's eyes hardened. "She hasn't listened to you yet. Why do you think she's going to start now?"

"I don't know, but … I've gotta try." Tears glistened in Kate's eyes, but the woman firmly brushed them away. "Y-You know, we'll go out into the woods. We'll drop out for however long until she learns how to control this."

"Little late for team building, don't you think?"

Kate's attention snapped over to Dean, anger flaring up at the Winchester's quip. "So, what?" she challenged. "I just abandon her? I did this. I owe her every chance to make it right."

"What if she never does?" Sam persisted.

"Then I'll take care of it."

"You'll take care of it?" Dean repeated, and Alex scoffed out her own disbelief. "You know what that means?"

Kate's eyes narrowed as she met the Winchester's glare. "Why don't you ask Brian?" she stubbornly challenged.

Alex took a sip of her drink, ready for Dean to lash out with another cold retort, but the Winchester's face was a stony grimace. "Well," he admitted, "maybe it doesn't have to come to that. You know, if you had shot straight with us from the get-go, we might've been able to help you a lot sooner."

Alex blinked back her surprise, unsure what the Winchester meant, and her confusion was echoed on Kate's face. "What do you mean?"

"By curing you both."

 _Cure?_ Alex's lips twisted downwards in a frown, but she thought better than to question Dean's words. A look up to Sam showed the same form of disbelief, and the angel dropped her gaze to her lap before the werewolf noticed their shock. All of Kate's attention, however, was focused on Dean. "Shut up. There is no cure for werewolves."

"And for a long time, that was true, but we found one." Dean jerked his head over to his brother, and Sam's lips came together in a thin smile, neither confirming nor denying his brother's theory. "Now," Dean continued, "We've got everything we need on our end. Okay? But the clock is tickin', and we need one more thing. Tasha. Unless … you want to do this without her?"

"N-No." Kate's voice lifted with eagerness. "It's a long drive, but … I know where to find her."

"Great. Let's go." Dean stood up so the werewolf could slide out of her seat, and Alex and Sam followed their lead. Alex tucked her drink in the crook of her arm as she pushed open the door that led into the parking lot, but she chose to fall behind Sam and Dean as Kate climbed into the backseat.

Dean paused beside the trunk, moving to pull out his keys, and Sam stopped beside him. "Dude, what are you doing?" he hissed, careful to keep his voice low. "There is no cure."

"There's one." Dean drew back his jacket to reveal his silver knife, tucked carefully in his pocket, and Sam's lips pursed tightly together.

"Dean, I think everything is a little more complicated than that," Alex insisted, and Sam quickly voiced his agreement.

The angel lifted her chin as Dean's green eyes turned upon her. "Kate and Tasha are monsters, right? Last I checked, you and I both kill monsters. Unless that's changed?"

"Nothing's changed," Alex agreed slowly, "but come on. Killing Tasha I understand, but Kate …" She cast the werewolf a glance through the window with a shake of her head. "I don't like it at all, but we've let monsters go for less. She's fighting to protect her sister, and you and Sam - that's the sort of thing you two would do for each other in a heartbeat."

Dean scoffed. "Well, yeah, and that's worked wonders for us."

"Well, we're still here, aren't we?" Sam's face darkened at his brother's cynicism, and he crossed his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, but is it right?" Dean shook his head. "I mean, all that you've done for me, and I've still got this Mark."

"And we'll figure that out." Sam's gaze dropped down onto Dean's covered forearm, and the Winchester consciously moved to cover it up as Sam continued, "We always do. But you can't take whatever has happened to us or to you and — and dump it at these girls' feet."

"Alright, so, what? You want to nuance this thing?" Dean shrugged as he turned to face his brother fully. "Hit me. What's your plan?"

"I don't know." Sam slowly shook his head. "Just … just give me some time to think."

"Hey." The Impala door opened, and Alex looked up as Kate peered out at them, her face tight with worry. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine." Alex brushed past the Winchester, breaking up their conversation as she moved to the other door. "Do you know where we're going?" Kate nodded, and Alex slid into the backseat. "Great. Then let's hit the road."

...

 **V** oices broke through the blackness, low murmurs of indistinguishable words, and Alex stirred slightly. Her head was rested against something warm, something solid, and in the back of her mind, the angel knew that it was Sam. "Hey." A hand on her shoulder jerked her fully into consciousness, and Alex blinked open her eyes to see Dean shake Kate. "How are we doing?"

The werewolf jerked awake in the passenger seat, eyes stretching wide to adjust to the darkness, and she stared out the window for a second or two before she nodded. "We're getting close."

Alex tried to catch sight of a fleeting road sign, but the darkness hid the painted words. "So, what exactly is this spot?" she heard Dean ask.

"Ever since Tasha and I were little, we've been coming up to this cabin with our parents." The werewolf's gaze turned onto Alex when the angel made a questioning noise, her iris' glowing in the faint light. "When she became a wolf, we knew it was gonna be hard, so we kind of came up with this escape plan in case things ever got bad."

"So it's a rendezvous spot?"

"Pretty much." Kate's gaze turned out the window, and Alex watched as Dean shot his brother a look in the rearview mirror. "After seeing you three today, she should be there. Your turn is on the right."

Dean followed Kate's pointed finger, and the Impala turned down a dirt path. The headlights dimmed as they rolled up towards a wooden cabin, and Alex leaned forward to catch sight of a single light on in one of the windows. The headlights went completely out as Dean rolled the Impala up to the cabin, and Alex reached down to pick up her angel blade off of the Impala's floor. "Now what?" Sam asked as the engine died.

Kate's eyes were glued on the cabin, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet. "Maybe I should go in first, explain all this?"

"Good idea," Dean agreed, and Alex lifted her eyebrows in surprise at the Winchester's complacency. Kate nodded and threw open the car door, but suddenly Dean reached out and yanked her back. The click of handcuffs cut through the air as he fastened the metal lock around the werewolf's wrist, and Kate let out a cry of surprise as the other end was latched to the steering wheel.

"What are you doing?" she yelled, struggling angrily against the cuffs. "You son of a bitch!" Her eyes went wide as Dean's face tightened, and she looked back at Sam and Alex. "There is no cure, is there?" No one answered, and she turned back to Dean. "I _trusted_ you. It's not her fault," she insisted. It's mine."

"She killed people."

"But she can be _saved_!" Tears welled up in the corner of Kate's eyes, and the werewolf's jaw trembled.

"No." Dean shook his head. "Tasha's in too deep. You don't ever come back from that, not ever." He threw open the car door and got out. "Come on, Sammy."

"No! Please!" Kate's voice followed them out of the car, and Alex closed the door behind her. "Don't do this! No, please! Don't!"

Her voice died away as Alex followed after Dean, muffled by the car's frame, and the angel twisted her weapon in her hand as they approached the front porch. The Winchesters drew their weapons as Alex opened the door, and she stepped aside to let them press on forward. They split up, each going a different direction, and after a second of thought, Alex followed after Sam. She watched as the hunter paused to look over an array of photos on the wooden mantle, and she brushed past him to peer into the kitchen. There was nothing to be found, and the angel drew up her weak grace defensively.

"Alex." Sam's murmur had the angel turning to face him, and Alex followed him across the room to a closed door. A bedroom lay inside, and on the bed sat a small blonde. A doll was held tightly in her hands, and Alex narrowed her eyes as she recognized Tasha.

The werewolf lifted her gaze, and Alex's grip tightened on her weapon. "I can't believe my own sister betrayed me." Tasha's voice was thick with venom, and Alex scoffed.

"Yeah, except … she didn't." Sam's gun cocked at he stepped forward, weapon raised towards the monster, and Tasha set the doll back down onto the bed as she rose to her feet.

"You're not gonna shoot me," she stated, voice calm and confident, and Alex pursed her lips.

"And why is that?"

"Sam." Dean's voice came from behind them, and Alex spun around. The Winchester stood in the doorway, hands raised, and the angel's eyes zeroed in on the muzzle of a gun pressed up against the hunter's head. It was held by a tall stranger with pale yellow eyes, and Alex felt the corner of her lip turn up into a snarl of disgust.

"Drop the weapons, or Dreamboat here gets his mind blown." Tasha's voice grew dark as Alex turned back, and after a second, the angel let her weapon clatter to the ground.

"Don't do it!" Dean's anger had Sam hesitating, and Alex whipped her head to the side at the sound of the butt of a gun colliding with bone. Dean groaned loudly, falling onto the wooden floor, and Alex clenched her fists at her side.

"Well … Sammy?" The werewolf's deriding tone had Sam's confidence wavering, and after a second, he slowly placed his weapon down onto the ground. Tasha kicked it aside, sending the gun skittering across the room, and Alex stepped closer to Sam at the sound of two sets of approaching footsteps.

A stranger appeared in the doorway, dragging a disgruntled Kate at his side. The werewolf's eyes stretched at the sight of the gun against Dean's head, and her gaze swung over to her sister. "Tasha! What did — who are these people?"

"Brandon. Travis." Tasha nodded to the two young men in the room, a dark smile on her lips. "I turned them. They're our new family."

"Yeah, you're a regular psycho Brady Bunch," Dean grunted from where he lay on the floor, cradling his head, and Alex's grace roiled angrily as one of the werewolves lunged at Dean, teeth bared in a warning.

"Hey!" Sam rushed forward, ready to protect his brother, but Tasha was faster. Alex jumped backwards as Sam was flung across the room, landing on the large bed with a winded grunt. Tasha followed him, straddling the Winchester as her hands wrapped themselves around his throat.

Alex threw herself forward to tackle the blonde off of Sam, but a gunshot had her twisting to the ground in pain. She hit the floor as the bullet embedded itself in the wall behind her, having just barely nicked her ribs, but the shock of the wound was enough to cause her to gasp. "Tasha!" she heard Kate yell out her sister's name in a plea. "We can talk about this."

Sam gasped for breath as Tasha let go of his neck, turning to face her sister. "They were gonna kill me," she snapped. "And now you're protecting them?"

"I'm protecting _you_ ," Kate insisted.

"Yeah. I'm good. Thanks." Tasha's voice was scathing as Alex pushed herself to her feet, gripping her bleeding side. Neither noticed, their attention completely focused on each other, and after a second Tasha added, "So here's how it's gonna be. You can walk away, or you can join my pack."

"I'm not walking away." Kate shrugged off the man that was holding her, and Tasha's lips curled into a smile.

"Then prove you got what it takes," she challenged, and she glanced over her shoulder at Sam. "Eat his heart out."

"No." Alex positioned herself between the werewolves and Sam, one hand stretched out while the other stemmed the the blood from her side. "You want to get to Sam, you go through me."

Tasha's eyes flashed yellow, accepting the challenge, but Kate shook her head. "No," she insisted.

"Fine." Tasha pointed at Dean, and then Sam and Alex in turn. "Take them," she ordered Brandon and Travis. "Have some fun. Oh, and I want a heart to-go. Put it in a doggie bag."

"That was painful," Alex spat as one of the werewolves shoved her and Sam towards the door. "I hope you die for that joke—" She cut off when a shove from her captor almost had her stumbling, and she followed the Winchester out into the living room.

"On your knees!" Fists flashed through the air, and Sam and Dean fell to the floor with grunts of pain and surprise. A hand wrapped around her wrist to drag her away, and Alex struggled to pull herself free. Her grace boiled inside of her, and the angel grabbed the werewolf's forearm as her grace poured forth. It spluttered and died within seconds, curling back inside of her chest, but the contact was long enough for the monster to howl in pain and rip himself free of her hold. A handprint was burned into his skin, the flesh an angry red color, and Alex only had a moment to enjoy the sight before the second man kicked her legs out from under her.

Her shoulder hit the ground with a resounding thud, and Alex rolled onto her back, gripping her wounded side with a muffled groan. "You okay?" she heard Sam whisper, and the angel grit her teeth as she nodded. "These guys, huh?" he scoffed when Alex pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Can you believe 'em?"

"Yeah, a couple of minor leaguers," Dean agreed mockingly. Alex grunted again as she looked up to meet the werewolves' gazes.

"You're dead," one spat, rubbing at the burn on his arm. "You don't get to talk In fact —" He cut off in surprise as Sam lunged upwards. Silver flashed through the air as the blade embedded itself into the monster's stomach. Dean followed close behind, throwing himself at the other, but the half-second of hesitation was enough time for the werewolf to react. He deflected the blow, but wasn't fast enough for Alex's own attack. She barrelled into him, and the impact sent the two of them crashing to the ground. Sam was there, ready to bury the knife into the monster's chest, and Alex pushed herself to her feet.

"Welcome to the majors, boys." Dean sheathed his knife into his jacket, and Alex brushed past him to throw her weight against the bedroom door. The door opened easily, and the angel skidded to the stop at the sight of a body lying on the floor.

Blood pooled around the stomach, and Alex's gaze traced the bloody abdomen before it lifted to the werewolf's face. "Tasha's dead." She spoke loud enough for the Winchesters to hear from where they stood in the doorway, and she knelt down to pick up her weapon as Sam brushed past her.

"Kate must have fled out the window," he added, hunching over to stick his head out into the night. "Dammit. There's no way we'll find her. Not in this darkness."

"Dammit," Dean echoed, and Alex stepped aside to let him have a look at Tasha's body. "And she left us with all the heavy lifting." He nudged at the corpse with his foot in disgust. "What do you say we just torch the place, huh?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." Sam's voice sounded distracted as he moved out of the room, and Dean shrugged over at Alex. The angel mimicked him before she turned and followed Sam. "Hey." The Winchester's face was tight as he looked down at Alex's side, and Alex shifted so the hunter couldn't see. "How are you doing?"

"Fine. My grace is healing it." The lie came out easily, and Alex held Sam's gaze until he looked away. "Don't worry. It just barely grazed me. Where do you think Kate went?"

"Who knows." Dean appeared behind them, a lighter in his hands. "Hey, Sammy, help me get those goons into the bedroom, huh? I don't have enough juice to torch this whole place." Sam nodded, and Alex turned to help, but Dean stopped her with a raised hand. "Hold up, sport. You're not doing any heavy lifting with that." He pointed down to her side, and Alex's lips tightened angrily. "Go get the gas can from the trunk, would ya?"

"I'm _fine_ ," Alex repeated angrily, and she let her hand fall away from the wound. "My grace —"

"Is doing shit," Dean finished, and his voice hardened in authority. "You can barely stand up straight. Go. We'll take care of it."

His voice left no room for question, and Alex stomped out of the cabin, teeth grit against the sharpness in her side. Only when she was out of the Winchesters' sight did she finally reach back up to clench at the bloody skin, gasping as she finally let the pain show. "Fuck." Her fingers carefully probed the tear, slick with half-drying blood. The thin netting of grace surrounded it, healing the capillaries from within, but each jarring step tore open the newly closed vessels.

Alex sunk down in the grass beside the Impala, forcing herself to breathe shallowly in the hopes that the stillness would let the healing progress, but the flesh closed agonisingly slow. The wound wasn't deep — hardly life-threatening — and the angel paused for a moment, half-tempted to simply let Sam tend to it. Her grace wasn't strong enough; even if she managed to stay still, it would burn itself out in the process. Her gaze tuned back to the cabin, where the shadows of Sam and Dean could be seen in the lamplight, and her face colored at the possible consequences. The Winchesters thought she was weak as it was; letting Sam care for such a benign wound would only further than idea. No.

Alex pushed herself to her feet, teeth clenched in pain and anger. She wasn't helpless, and she wasn't frail. She pulled open the car door and leaned inside, fingers closing around the small vial that lay on the floor. Blue smoke swirled inside, pulsing and glowing with life, and the angel roughly pulled the stopper free. The grace rose forth, twisting and dancing like a charmed snake, and Alex closed her eyes as she parted her lips.

Warmth spilled through her limbs as the grace rushed inwards, and a shiver passed through the angel as it flooded forth, flowing through her veins. It swept over the wound, the flesh repairing beneath the tidal wave of life, and Alex felt her eyes glow blue before she reluctantly reined it back in. Her hand reached down to touch her side, fingernails dragging over the skin, now baby soft.

"Hey. Pip." The sound of Dean's voice had Alex turning around, and her eyes darted to the bedroom window, now flickering with flames. "We're ready to head out. You good?"

"Of course I'm good." Alex let her hand fall away from her side with a curt nod. "I told you, Dean. My grace would heal it."

Dean let out a noncommittal grunt, his green eyes catching in the rising flames, but he finally gave a nod. "Good. Let's get out of here." He brushed past her and slid into the car, and Alex stepped aside so Sam could do the same. Her fingers released the vial, now cold and empty, and it fell into the damp grass as she stepped into the Impala. The engine purred, and the car sped off into the darkness.


	6. Fan Fiction

**January 19th, 2015**  
 **Aspen, Colorado**

 **A** lex pulled the motel sheets tighter around her lithe frame, groaning into the thin, flat pillow. She could hear movement in the room, heavy footsteps that could only belong to Sam, and she pulled the comforter tighter over her head. Her side groaned out its pain, not fond of the new position, and Alex reluctantly rolled over to stare up at the ceiling. She heard the tall hunter call out a "Morning," but her only response was to grunt as she ran her fingers over her ribs. The bullet hole sustained in Washington was a weeks gone, the wound a distant memory, but, particularly in the early morning, the pain lingered on.

The mattress shifted as someone sat down on the end, and the angel slowly sat up, gaze sweeping across the room just in time to watch Sam shrug on a light v-neck t-shirt. "Morning. Where's Dean at?" Alex glanced over at the bathroom, but the open door revealed that the Winchester was not inside. "Usually he's still asleep at this point."

"Dunno." Sam's shoulders rose and fell. "Probably out working on the car. The hood was rattling a bit last night." The mattress creaked as he rose up and turned to face her. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine, actually. Best sleep I've had in weeks. What about you?" Her eyes turned onto the bed across from her, the sheets tucked neatly into the sides, and she frowned. "You _did_ sleep, right?"

"Yeah, of course. I got a few hours." Her concern was brushed off with little interest, and Sam exited the room without another word. Alex watched him go, her frown deepening even further as she leaned over to pull her bag closer, and the angel pulled on a thin sweatshirt over her tank top. Zuriel's grace sat in her chest, colder and stronger than any grace she had had before, and the lights flickered above her head as it reached out curiously. Her control was still unsteady, but she was strong again. Alex determinedly pulled her grace back in, tucking it deep within her chest and rising to her feet as her curiosity got the better of her, and she followed Sam out the door.

"—long enough to find us a case," Dean was saying, and Alex rolled up the sleeves on her sweatshirt, surprised to remember that, even in mid-January, it was still warm in the southern states. She crossed the sidewalk to stand at Sam's side, bare toes wiggling in slight discomfort against the pebbled concrete.

"Long enough to …" Sam blinked in surprise. "I take it that means you're feeling back to normal?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever normal is in our world." Dean picked up a newspaper that was balanced on the edge of the open trunk, and he handed it to Sam. "So, huh, right here. A teacher in an all-girls school went missing in Flint, Michigan. She was heading to her car, disappeared, and nobody's seen her since."

Sam flipped through the article, shaking his head. "Dean, there's nothing here that even remotely suggests there is a case," he admonished, and he handed the paper over to Alex with a dismissive click of his tongue.

"There is nothing that even remotely suggests there _isn't_ a case," Dean retorted lightly. "Boom! Look, look." He pointed to himself and Sam before motioning in Alex's direction. "You and me, FBI. She goes undercover. We get here one of those uniforms — you know, tie, short skirts. She'll fit right in."

Sam rolled his eyes, and Alex snorted. "Dude. There are some many things wrong with that. Like, most importantly, you're thinking of porn. Also, you need to lay off the tween flicks, because there's no way I'll pass off as a high schooler. Five years ago, yeah, it worked, but not now." Dean looked skeptical, and she added, "I'm twenty three, dude."

"First of all, nothing you said is true. Secondly, you're twenty four — happy birthday." Alex's brow furrowed in confusion at the news, scrambling at her pockets for her phone to check the date, and Dean turned to his brother to add, "And come on! Guys. Case or not … out there, hunting, it's the only normal I know." He slammed the trunk and turned to face Sam and Alex. "Pack up. We got work to do."

He moved back towards the motel, and Alex looked up at Sam. "Wait. So where is this case exactly?" In response, Sam pointed to the top of the article, and the angel's face furrowed as she read the headlines. "Michigan. Why does it have to be someplace cold?"

She tossed the paper onto the car with a noise of disgust and followed Dean back into the motel. The hunter was nowhere in sight, but the running water and closed bathroom door gave away his location. Beer bottles and empty pizza boxes decorated the ceramic counter, and Alex paused to half-heartedly check if any food remained from last night's meal.

"You should probably get packed." The door squealed as Sam entered, and Alex let the box fall closed. "Dean's gonna want to leave as soon as possible."

"We have time. He's in the shower." However, the angel crossed over to her bed and pulled her bag up off of the floor. "You think there's actually something here? I mean in Michigan. With the teacher."

Sam hesitated, and when he spoke, his voice was slow. "Hard to say. But from what that article said ... there's no body, no blood, nothing to suggest a kill. And kidnappings — they're not exactly uncommon." He ended with a small, half-hearted shrug. "I guess we won't know until we learn more."

The water turned off, and Alex cast a glance back towards the bathroom. "I guess keeping him busy is the best we can do," she agreed quietly. "He seemed to handle the werewolf thing just fine, but who knows how far he can slip." She paused, eyes flicking up to Sam, and she sighed at the concern darkening his gaze. "Listen. If working with him and Crowley taught me one thing, it's that if you give him a bit of leeway during the good times, he'll be more willing to listen when things get bad. And the less time he has to worry about the Mark …" She trailed off with a shake of her head. "There's nothing else to do but wait."

...

 **Flint, Michigan**

 **T** he Impala rolled to a stop alongside a brick building, and Alex stirred from her position in the backseat. She reached up to rub a crick in her neck, stifling a groan as she watched Sam shift his phone to his other ear. "Yeah, I certainly appreciate it," he was saying. "You got it. Thanks, officer." He hung up, and the Impala's engine died. "So," he announced as he got out of the car, "the last place Ms. Chandler was seen by anyone was in the auditorium. Turns out she's the drama teacher."

"Ugh." Dean's face wrinkled in momentary disgust, and he slammed the door shut behind him. "Theatre kids. Great."

"What?" Sam stopped, voice sharpening in confusion and indignation, and Dean shrugged. "I was a theatre kid."

Dean's green eyes sparkled in amusement, and he let out a scoff "Barely. You did _Our Town_ , which was cool. But then, you did that crappy musical."

"The crappy — _Oklahoma_?" Sam looked down at Alex for support, but the angel merely shrugged, unwilling to pick a side. Seeing her lack of support, Sam's lips pursed as he turned back to his brother. "Hugh Jackman got cast off of _Oklahoma_."

"You ran tech, Wolverine." Dean chuckled as he continued across the parking lot, and Alex barely stifled a laugh of her own. She heard Sam mutter a good-natured, "Shut up," before he followed them into the school. The main hallway was brightly lit, and Alex's dress shoes squeaked against the tile as she fell in step at Dean's side, grey eyes sweeping across the empty hall. "Alright, follow my lead." Dean's shoulders rolled back as he stepped into the principal's office, and Alex hesitated, taking her time to read the name that hung on the wooden door. Salazar.

"Principle Salazar." The Winchester spoke cordially, and Alex's attention turned to the dark-haired lady that stood in the doorway. "We're here about the disappearance of Ms. Chandler. We're with the FBI."

Alex didn't miss the surprise that flashed across the women's face, but the display of the Winchester's badges was all that it took to reassure her. "Why are you here?" she asked, her voice thin with confusion. "The police have already come by, and I've already given my official report."

"We're just here to have a look around," Sam promised. "Captain Muñoz said that Mrs. Chandler had been last seen at the auditorium?"

"Yes. The drama department is putting on a new play." The downwards twitch of the principal's lips was enough to display her displeasure, but her voice lost none of its placid formality. "In fact, they should be rehearsing right now. I can take you there if you wish to speak with her students."

"That would be wonderful. Thank you." Sam dipped his head, and Alex stepped out of the way so the principal could pass by. Sam and Dean followed, leaving the angel to take up the rear as they made their way down the hallway.

"Here." The principal motioned to a set of double doors. "If you need anything else, let me know."

"Great. Thanks, Ms. Salazar." Sam shifted forward as the woman disappeared back down the hall, and with a shrug, he pushed open the doors and stepped inside. Alex slipped past him, blinking to adjust to the dark auditorium. The house lights were set to low, and the stage was lit, but the angel's attention was drawn immediately elsewhere.

"You idjits!" The grumpy yet high-pitched grumble had Alex's head snapping back in surprise, and her sharp gaze swept over to a flannel-clad girl, complete with a ragged cap and fake beard. Just across the floor stood another teen, this one dressed in a oversized trench coat and tie, and Alex felt a rush of warmth flood through her — what exactly the emotion was, she couldn't tell, as it was immediately replaced by anger.

The lights on the stage suddenly flashed brighter, and the sound of a piano filled the room. " _John and Mary, husband and wife_ ..." The singing was coming from a girl on the stage, dressed scrupulously like Dean, and the rest of the lyrics were lost as Alex choked out a barely audible noise.

The looks on Sam and Dean's faces were enough to match her own, and Alex quickly shut her mouth, eyes squeezing closed as she regained her composure from the sudden onslaught of shock and familiarity. "What the fuck is this?" Her words were drowned out by a recorded scream, coming from the stage, and suddenly the music died off.

"What in the holy …" Dean started, but he trailed off, unsure how to even continue.

Sam picked up where his brother left off, his own voice just as breathless. "If there is a case … it probably has something to do with all of this."

"You think?" Dean couldn't tear his gaze off of the stage, and Alex elbowed him in the ribs as two of the girls approached.

The first was dressed like a director, complete with a beret, and the look on her face was one of intense direction masked by excitement. "Hi!" she announced, her eyes wide as she took in the three formally dressed adults. "Oh my gosh … are you guys from the publisher?" Without waiting for an answer, she pointed to herself and her friend in turn. "I'm Marie, writer slash director. This is Maeve, my stage manager, and I was just, uh, directing—" She cut off when Sam pulled out his badge, and Alex hurried to do the same.

"I'm special agent Smith," Sam announced, and with a glance downstage, he suddenly reached out to keep Dean from revealing his own identification. Following his gaze, Alex felt a blush spread across her face at the sight of two actors holding out their own fake identifications. "This is my partner, special agent —"

"S-Smith," Dean stuttered.

Alex looked down at her own badge and hastily shoved it deep into her pocket. Keira Smith. Fuck. "Smith," she briskly introduced. "Absolutely no relation," she quickly added. "On the bright side, you'll never get our names wrong —" Realizing she was starting to ramble, Alex snapped her jaw shut loud enough for all to hear. "We're just here about the disappearance of —"

"There is no singing in _Supernatural_!" Dean's sudden outburst had Alex's eyes widening in surprise. For the first time, her eyes took in the banner that hung over the stage. _Supernatural_ , painted in large, blood-red letters.

"Well," Maeve began defensively, "this is Marie's interpretation."

Dean scoffed loud enough to cut the teenager off. "Well, I mean, if there was singing, you know … and that's a big _if_ — if there was singing, it would be classic rock. Not this Andrew Floyd Webster crap —"

"Andrew Lloyd Webster," Sam corrected under his breath, and Dean's face twisted in confusion.

"Well," Marie began, not catching the whispered exchange, "you know, we do sing a cover of _Carry on Wayward Son_ in the second act."

"Really?"

"It's a classic!" Both Marie and Dean spoke at the same time, their indignation clear at Sam's disapproval, and Alex rolled her eyes.

Sam cleared his throat, hazel eyes narrowing slightly. "Right. Anyways. W-We're here to talk about the disappearance of Ms. Chandler. Any change you two saw here, before she vanished?"

Marie and Maeve exchanged looks as they thought. "Um, yeah," Marie finally said. "She left around, what? Nine thirty?" Maeve nodded in agreement, and Alex took the time to turn her gaze out across the auditorium once more. She recognized more of the characters, now that she knew what to look for: Bobby, Sam, Dean, Castiel. Mary Winchester. John. "— had a nasty divorce last year," the young director was saying as Alex turned her attention to the humans in front of her. "Most of the time, she's sipping on her, uh, 'grown-up juice,' or passed out. Usually in that order."

"Yeah, well, I don't blame her." Dean spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, but his words seemed mostly for himself. "I'm gonna need fifty jello shots and an hose-down down to get this stink off of me."

The girl — Maeve — made a move towards Dean, and Alex snapped to attention, ready to jump in, but Sam was faster. "Uh, Maeve, right?" He put out a hand to keep the young teen's attention on her. "You're the stage manager?"

"And I understudy Jody Mills." The girl's voice was flat as her brown eyes reluctantly moved from Dean, and Alex's eyebrows lifted as she turned her gaze back onto the stage, trying to find the caricature of her friend.

Dean seemed to share in her surprise, but Sam spoke over his brother's confusion. "That's great!" he insisted. "That's great. Jody Mills, that's great." He trailed off slightly, looking back at Alex, and the angel's lips set tightly. "So!" He quickly turned away. "How about you give a … a behind the scenes tour while your director shows my partners Ms. Chandler's office? Deal?" Both girls gave a nod, and Sam smiled. "Great. Give us a moment, please."

The two walked away, and Dean's face twisted in disgust. "I'm gonna fucking throw up," he grumbled, and Alex lifted an eyebrow as the stage manager threw Dean a nasty look over her shoulder before she moved out of earshot.

"I mean, I gotta say, it's kind of charming." Sam's voice was hollow, his spirit not behind his words, and his eyes swept the auditorium. "The production value, and the … no?" He looked between Alex and Dean. "No, no. I — I'm gonna check for EMF. You look for … cursed objects." He hurried away, and Alex's fingers opened and closed in a fist, itching for something to calm her nerves.

"Keep your angel eyes open, would ya?" Dean muttered over to her, and, in response, Alex briefly let her grace swell up, her grey eyes flashing blue. "Great." Dean thudded her on the shoulder, and the light died away. "Yeah, do that." He turned and made his way down the stairs, and Alex followed, casting another look around the stage as she tried to pick out the other nondescript characters. They climbed up the stage stairs and circled around backstage, passing by a variety of cardboard and chipboard sets. A table lay just off of stage right, an organized mess of props, and Dean paused to pass his fingers over them. "How did you get all this stuff?" he asked curiously.

"Some parts homemade, some parts repurposed. All of it, awesome —" Marie turned back to them, and her eyes went wide at the sight of Dean picking up a orange-tipped plastic rifle. "Don't." She roughly took the toy from the Winchester's hands. "Please, don't."

"What's that?" Alex pointed to a white prop that lay on the far side of that table, head tipped in confusion.

"It's Castiel's angel blade." Pride lined the director's voice, darkened with a hint of condescension, and Alex narrowed her eyes.

"Really?" She picked it up, twisting it curiously in her hands before she placed it back down on the table with a shake of her head. "Cause it kind of looks like a plastic dagger spray-painted white." She subconsciously reached back, fingers touching the handle of her angel blade that rested beneath her shirt, and the angel yanked her hand away when she realized what she was doing.

Marie's face reddened, and she opened her mouth, ready to retort, but Dean spoke first. "What are they doing?" He pointed ahead of them to the stage, and Alex turned to see two teenagers — Sam and Dean — standing in the spotlight, heads bent together as they spoke beside a cardboard cut out of a black car.

"Oh!" Marie's anger dissipated. "Um, they're rehearsing the B.M. scene."

"The … bowel movement scene?" Dean's head recoiled in confusion, and he looked down at Alex; the angel could only shake her head, unsure what was meant.

"No!" The young director rolled her eyes at their ignorance. "The boy melodrama scene. You know, the scene where the boys get together, and they're — they're driving, or leaning against Baby. Drinking a beer, sharing their feelings." Her voice grew soft with longing, and Alex bit back a scoff. "The two of them. Alone. But together. Bonded. United. The power of brotherly —"

"Why are they standing so close together?" Dean cut into her monologue, lips turned down into a thin frown.

"Um … reasons."

Alex looked up at Dean, and the Winchester's green eyes flashed at the realization. "Reasons?" Alex repeated. "You — you guys do know that they're _brothers_ , right?"

"Well, duh!" Marie rolled her eyes. "But … subtext."

"Hey!" Dean lifted his voice so the actors on stage could hear him, and the two turned in surprise at his tone. "Why don't you take some substeps back there, ladies?" The actors each took a step back, and, satisfied, Dean turned back to Marie. "Uh, how about you show us Ms. Chandler's office?"

Marie took off towards the hall with a toss of her head, and Alex shrugged over at Dean, unsure what to say. She fell in step beside the Winchester as they exited the dark auditorium and entered the white tiled halls. The dark office of the drama teacher could be seen near the end of the hall, and Alex shoved her hands into her pocket as Marie opened the door and stepped inside.

The lights flickered on, and Alex's grey eyes scoured the small room. Empty bottles lined every surface, and a large paper-mache robot head sat in the middle of the desk. "Is this hers?" Dean asked, mindlessly motioning to the prop as he circled around the desk, taking in the mess of liquor and papers.

"No!" Marie quickly snatched the head off of the desk, her eyes lighting up in delight. "That's a prop from act two. I've been looking for that, actually."

"Prop?" Alex's face went blank in surprise, and she scoffed loudly. "There's no robots or aliens in _Supernatural_. You know that, right?"

"Well, not canonically, no," Marie retorted hotly. "But, this is transformative fiction."

A smirk grew across Dean's face. "You mean fan fiction," he said, while Alex added, "bad fan fiction," under her breath.

"Call it whatever you like, okay?" Marie stepped back out of the office, her prop gripped tightly in her arms. "It's inspired by Carver Edlund's books. With … a few embellishments. But, as you know, Chuck stopped writing after _Swan Song_."

"After — _Swan Song?_ What?" Alex's attention snapped back onto the director, and one of the liquor bottles she had been studying tipped over. "I thought he stopped writing after you went to hell," she hissed up at Dean before her voice grew in anger. "I swear if I ever see that curly-haired alcoholic again, I, I'll …"

"I just couldn't leave it the way that it was," Marie was still insisting, and Alex glowered after her before she followed Dean out of the office. "I mean, Dean not hunting anymore, living with Lisa? Sam, somehow back from Hell, but not with Dean?" She paused, looking back for support, but when none came, she shrugged. "So, I wrote my own ending."

"You wrote your own ending," Dean repeated. "With spaceships?"

"And robots. And some ninjas. And them, Dean becomes a woman. It's just for a few scenes," she quickly insisted as Dean's gaze sharpened.

"Alright, Shakespeare." Dean's voice became smug. "You know that I can actually tell you what really happened with the — uh, Sam and Dean? A friend of mine hooked me up with the, uh, unpublished unpublished books." The Winchester smirked down at Alex before he launched into his tale. "So, Sam came back from Hell. But without a soul. Then, Cas brought in a bunch of leviathans from Purgatory. They lost Bobby, Cas went insane. And then, Cas and Dean got stuck in Purgatory. Sam hit a dog. Alex found a kid. They met a prophet named Kevin, and they lost him, too. Then Sam endured a series of trials in an attempt to close the gates of hell which nearly cost him his life. Alex finally got laid, and then the angels fell. And Dean? Dean became a demon. Knight of Hell, actually."

"He wasn't a Knight of Hell," Alex quickly corrected. "He just liked to say he was. And Alex had to babysit him." She watched as Dean rolled his eyes, and she shoved her hands into her pocket as they stepped back into the auditorium behind stage, hissing out a suddenly realized, "Wait, why is me getting laid part of your highlights reel?"

Marie turned to face them before Dean could response. "Wow …" she breathed. "That is some of the _worst_ fanfiction that I've ever heard!" She must not have seen the offense on the hunters' faces, because she continued, "I mean, seriously, I don't know where your friend found this garbage. I am _not_ saying that ours in a masterpiece, or anything, but geez!" She laughed, and Alex's hands tightened in her pockets as she added, "I'll have to send you some fic links later —"

"What are they doing?" Dean pointed past the stage to where two actors — of Dean and Castiel — were standing, fingers linked as they stood facing each other, lips moving in quiet words.

"Um .. Kids these days call it hugging."

Alex frowned at the condescending tone, and she asked, "And is that 'hugging' in the show?"

"Oh, no. Siobhan and Kristen are a couple in real life." Marie brushed off Alex's question. "Although," she added after a second, "we do explore the nature of Destiel in act two. Oh, it's just subtext," she was quick to promise. "But then again, you know, you can't spell subtext without … s-e-x."

Dean's shoulders fell, his face tight, and Alex cleared her throat. "Sure, great. Not canon at all. Okay, so …" she began, drawing the attention off of Dean, "I recognize most of these characters here. I think. But I haven't, uh, I haven't seen Alex. Where's she?"

"Oh, we took her out." Marie waved off the question without much thought. "I felt that the play would work better without her. She doesn't do much for the story, you know? I mean, that whole 'angel' thing was creepy, and the whole 'falling into the universe?' " Marie scoffed loudly. "Completely cliche — trust me; any fanfiction that starts that way is automatically awful."

Alex's grace flicked out in anger, twisting through the room, and a shout of surprise almost drowned out the crackle of flames as a trash can suddenly caught on fire. A hand came down over Alex's head, and the angel rubbed her hair as she scowled up at Dean. "Thanks for your time. We'll be in touch." Dean stalked off stage, and Alex followed.

Sam was waiting for them outside the auditorium, leaning up against the walls, and he straightened up as they stepped into view. "What'd you learn?"

"I think Alex has the right idea. Burn the whole place." The words were grumbled out as the door swung shut behind them. "This whole thing —" He shook his head as he lead the way towards the front door. "Apparently they, uh, 'explore the nature of Destiel in act two.' " His voice grew high and nasally as he mimicked Marie's tone before it dropped back down in disgust. "As in me. And Cas. Me and Cas. Together."

"I don't understand." Sam walked over to the Impala. "I mean, shouldn't it be … Deanstiel?" He leaned up against the car, face twisted in thought.

"Really?" Dean snapped. "That's your issue with this?" He circled around the car with a shake of his head.

"No, of course it's not my issue." The smirk on Sam's face was enough to negate his words. "You know, how about Sastiel? Samstiel?"

"Calex." Alex suddenly said. "Me and Cas. I feel like we should have a ship name, since, you know, we're actually a thing." She looked over at Dean, and, taking pity, added to Sam, "Did you hear that I'm not in the play at all? Totally took me out. _Me_. Oh, and also Chuck wrote more books that end when Dean goes to hell."

"Yeah, I heard." Sam brushed off Alex's indignance. "But look, guys. No EMF. No hexbags. None of the props are even remotely hincky. Other than the Charlie Kaufman of it all, I got nothing. You?"

"In Ms. Chandler's office, there's just a pile of empty bottles and regret. She's just probably face down in a bar somewhere. Or a ditch." Dean rolled his eyes. "Alright, so what? This — this all … this whole musical thing, everything it's … it's all just a coincidence? There's no case?"

"Unless you're seeing something I'm not, no. There's no case here." Sam watched as Dean unlocked the Impala and pulled open the door before he added, "CasDean?"

"Shut your face!" Dean's head snapped up angrily, and Sam snickered. "Get in the car!" Alex and Sam climbed inside, and Dean slammed the door behind him as he followed suit.

...

 **T** he call came in late that night. Another missing person from St. Alphonso's Academy, reported the sheriff, a student this time; they had been part of the drama club, having left after practice, but this time, there was a witness.

Alex pushed her way under the police tape, pulling her canvas grey jacket tighter around her body to keep out the biting night wind. Police sirens lit up the air with flashes of red and blue, and the angel shifted closer to Sam as they drew closer. "Sheriff Lindsey." The Winchester lifted his voice above the wind. "I'm Agent Smith. We talked on the phone."

"Ah, yes. Glad to see you came over so quickly." The balding man rubbed his hands together as he took in the three of them. "Your partners?" he guessed, and when Sam nodded, the sheriff waved them forward. "The girl's name is Maggie Sharp. The witness said they had argued about some play, and when Maggie walked away, something jumped her and dragged her off. Witness followed but lost sight of them behind those dumpsters."

Dean disappeared off to the left, and Alex grunted in acknowledgment, eyes tracing the small yellow evidence cones that laid out the path described, until Sam cleared his throat loudly. "And, um, what's that?" He pointed to a small violet flower that lay on the ground, and Alex tipped her head curiously the sight. Sam crouched down and pulled out a phone to take a picture, his brow dark in confusion.

The sheriff, however, merely shrugged. "Don't know. All I can say is that no plant around here is blooming. Must have fallen from a pocket. We'll have our men down at the lab analyze it." He paused, and after a second, added, "It looks a bit like the flower found when Mrs. Chandler disappeared. Think there might be a connection?"

"This witness you mentioned." Alex ignored the question, curling her fists even tighter in her pockets as a gust of icy wind rushed past. "Is she still here? May we speak with her?"

"Have at it. She's not making much sense, though." The sheriff glanced back towards the school building. "She'll be in the auditorium. Name's Marie Sarife."

 _Marie._ Alex winced at the name. Of course it was Marie. She looked up at Sam, but the Winchester showed no reaction. "Thank you," was all he said. He turned to leave, and Alex followed, eager to get out of the cold.

Dean was waiting for them just outside the auditorium. "So, I checked with the principal," he announced. "There's nothing on the surveillance tapes. What the — what did the cops think?"

"You know, the only clue they found was by the dumpster." Sam pulled out his phone to show off a picture from the parking lot. "They found the same flower near Ms. Chandler's cell phone. You recognize it?" Dean shook his head, and Sam sighed. "Yeah, me neither."

"Marie was the witness," Alex added sourly, and Dean's eyebrows lifted in surprise. She pulled open the door to the auditorium, and the Winchesters followed her inside.

The lights were up, with a small group of teenagers gathered at the edge of the stage. Alex stepped aside to let the brothers take the lead as they walked down the stairs, and Marie lifted her gaze as they approached. "Let me guess." Her voice was quiet, flat with exhaustion. "You guys came to laugh at me, too. Right?"

"Why don't you tell us what happened to your friend?" Sam suggested, and Alex shrugged off her jacket, tossing it across a folded chair as she straightened the sleeves her blue plaid shirt.

"Maggie quit the show. She was trying to get it shut down … so we were fighting." Marie toyed with the coffee cup in her hand and shivered. "Then, she — she left, and I heard her scream. So, I r-ran outside to help, and … and I saw a scarecrow." The teen lifted her gaze to look Sam in the eyes. "It looked just like the one from our show. But … alive."

Marie hesitated, and Dean prompted. "Then what?"

"It … wrapped her up in vines and took her behind the dumpster. And then, then they were both just … gone." Marie shuddered again. "So, I called the cops, and a bunch of adults just told me I have an overactive imagination. But … it's all real. Ghosts. Angels. Demons."

"I wanna believe," Maeve assured her friend, and Alex politely held back a roll of her eyes as her grace twisted inside her.

"You should believe." Sam's words surprised her, and even Marie looked shocked. "You both should. Cause it is all real. And so are we." Sam pointed to himself, his voice deep with sincerity. "I'm Sam Winchester. That's Dean. And that is Alex."

Silence fell. Marie and Maeve exchanged slow, wide-eyed looks. And then they laughed. Alex narrowed her eyes at the scoffing amusement, and she shot a glance up at the Winchesters. Their faces were stony, displeased at the reaction, but at least Marie seemed to have momentarily forgot about her day. "Okay," the teen finally began, gasping for breath. "Now, look. I'm willing to accept that monsters are real. But those books are work of _fiction_."

"And you guys are way too old to be Sam or Dean," Maeve added. "Maybe more of a Bobby-Rufus combo? Maybe."

"And Alex is an angel." Marie looked Alex up and down with a roll of her eyes. "You … you're too old and scrawny —"

"Alright, that's it." Alex's grace snapped out, sharp as a whip, and the lights flickered above their heads; one exploded into a shower of sparks, and Marie flinched in surprise. Alex drew her grace up again, raising it to her eyes to show off their glow, but Dean was faster. "Ow!" The angel winced away as his hand came down over the top of her head, and she glowered up at the hunter. "Stop doing that," she snapped.

"Stop lighting things on fire," Dean retorted.

"Look," Sam started, hands going out to hold back his partners as he calmly addressed the teens on the stage, "We're what the book calls hunters. This, this scarecrow — the one from your musical — is it based on the one from the books?"

"No, I changed it." Marie shuddered, and Alex rolled her eyes. "I got scared of a local legend when I was a kid. There was this old, creepy scarecrow on an abandoned farm outside of town." Her voice dropped into a whisper. "Kids used to say if it caught you, it would take you away."

"Okay." Dean crossed his arm. "If this scarecrow is based on your version, then Ms. Chandler and Maggie might still be alive."

"Please." Alex rolled her eyes yet again. "Have you seen this?" She motioned vaguely to the props on the stage. "This could be anything. Tupla, ghost, pagan god — hell, this could be a demon who has good taste in the theatrical arts. He'd be doing the world a favor, if you ask me," she added under her breath.

If the brothers heard the last part, they ignored it. "Could be a tulpa," Sam slowly admitted. "Hey. Do you guys have a library here?"

"Yeah." Maeve rose to her feet, and Alex fell in step behind the Winchesters as they exited the room. The sound of sirens faded into the distance as they crossed the school to a darkly-lit library. The lights flickered on as they stepped over the threshold, and the angel blinked to let her eyes adjust to the sudden change. Sam slipped off to the left, disappearing behind a shelf of books, and Alex took a step forward, ready to follow, but the sudden pressure between her shoulder blades had her jumping in surprise.

"How'd you do it?" Maeve watched her through half-narrowed eyes, reaching up to prod at her again. "Make the lights flicker like that?"

"I'm an angel," was Alex's curt response, and she pointedly turned her back as she mentally corrected herself. _Half-angel_. Her shoulder muscles twitched, moving non-existent wings, and Alex shook the thought away, stretching out her grace in search of Sam. He was searching through the shelves, fingers brushing against the spines.

The sound of his breathing was drowned out by Marie's scornful laugh. "Angels have wings," she insisted.

"Yup. And humans can't see them." Alex turned her attention up onto Dean, lifting her voice to speak over any further criticism. "My bet's still on demons. Think Crowley's trying to do us a favor for once?" Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes, and Alex sighed. "Yeah, you're right. If anything, he'd probably be funding this monstrosity."

"Here." Sam returned, a book tucked under his arm. "This way." He crossed over to a table and dropped down, flipping open the book to an earmarked page. "Tulpas are monsters that are created by an intense, focused energy on an idea, or —"

"Or a story," Marie finished with a self-satisfied nod.

"Great." Maeve sank down into a seat. "How do you kill an idea?"

"Well, in _Hell House_ , Sam and Dean burnt down the house to take out the one tulpa they hunted," Marie reminded, but she cut off when Alex snapped her fingers together.

"Right. Ghostfacers. Back — back when they were the dream team." The angel lifted her eyebrows over at Dean, trying to bring back some humor, but when no response came, she turned away. "You're right," she began, reluctantly agreeing with Marie's assessment. "When you destroy the symbol, you also kill the tulpa. So, you said this scarecrow was a part of your play? Is it a person or a prop?"

"Prop. And it's terrifying." Marie shuddered, and Alex held back an amused scoff at the reaction. "We keep it in the boiler room."

"That's, uh … great." Sam pushed himself to his feet and patted the table. "Can you guys read up? Just, give us a second." He stepped away from the table, and Alex hurried after him. "Fine, so, this doesn't add up," he began quietly, turning his back to the teenagers as Dean stopped at his side. "Tulpas require a ton of psychic energy to juice up." When Dean nodded, Sam glanced back towards the two teenage girls. "Well, it's not like the _Supernatural_ books are tearing up the New York Times best-seller list. And I seriously doubt this play has even sold out."

"I hope not," Alex muttered, and with a glance back at Marie, added, "Plus this scarecrow isn't even based on the books. No one even knows about it outside of the cast."

Dean nodded, and Sam reached up to scratch his head. "Well, you know what? This flower." His face darkened up as he thought, his broad shoulders hunched over. "I know I've seen it in the lore somewhere. There's gotta be a connection."

"Alright." Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder. "How about you get on that, and Alex and I will take a shot at burning man."

Alex nodded, stepping back towards the exit, but Sam's low murmur made her pause. "You sure?" Sam shot Alex a glance out of the corner of her eye, and the angel turned away, eyes tracing a stack of books as she pretended not to have heard. "I mean, with — with Alex a-and Marie." His voice dropped even further, and Alex had to strain her ears. "You know how … _touchy_ she can get with strangers, a-and — and with her grace back —"

"She'll be fine." Dean's voice was clipped, and Alex's eyebrows lifted to find the eldest Winchester defending her. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll keep an eye on her."

The grim line on Sam's face said it all, but he didn't argue. "Hey." Alex lifted her voice, beckoning Marie forward with a finger. "Come show us where the boiler room is, would ya?" She didn't miss the fear that flashed through Marie's eyes, and the angel's lips turned up into a smirk. "We need to see that scarecrow."

"Yeah … sure." The dark-haired teen hesitated, but she reluctantly led the way out of the library, leaving Alex and Dean to follow. The flashing of sirens could still be seen bouncing off the white walls, and Alex started back towards them, but Marie led them in the opposite direction. The windows disappeared from the walls, leaving only doors to break up the white painted bricks, and Marie came to a stop beside a large iron door clearly marked _Boiler_. Here she paused, hands patting at her hips as she searched her non-existent pockets."Oops, I forgot my keys," the teen began hopefully, but Alex stepped forward and nudged her aside.

"Here. Let me." The angel let her grace slip out, just a little bit at first in an attempt at control, but it snapped through the air, breaking the interior lock with a large _crack_. Alex flinched at the sound, turning her head to avoid eye contact with Dean as the door limply swung open. _Oops._

She stepped aside, and Dean took the lead, drawing his flashlight out of his pocket to light the dark stairs. A rumble sounded below, dark and metallic, underlying a drone that grew louder and louder with each passing step, and Alex blinked as the lights suddenly flickered on.

A sheet-covered mass stood in the corner, the flickering light of the boiler's fire dancing across the creases, and Alex could hear the fear in Marie's breath. "Gird your loins. It's horrifying."

" 'Horrifying.' " Alex scoffed as she repeated the word under her breath, and Dean stepped forward to pull off the sheet. It billowed to the ground, and Marie sucked in air at the sight of the terrifying prop. "Oooh." The angel's fingers wiggled in the air as she regarded the straw-stuffed sculpture. "Button eyes." She walked up and flicked the blue button, watching as it clacked against the red one before swinging back. "How monstrous."

"Alright." Dean picked up a piece of pipe off of the floor, turning it in his hands to test its weight before he held it out to Marie. "You wanna pinata this asshat?"

"Asshat?" Marie looked up at Dean before nodding impressively. "Nice. It's, uh, very Dean. No." She shook her head, stepping back from the prop. "It's all yours, Agent Smith."

"Smiths," Alex joked as Dean stepped up next to her. "We need to get new IDs." She looked the prop up and down, jaw clenched in effort to keep her grace under control as it reached out towards the scarecrow. She felt wood and straw and string, but there was no sign of anything malignant. She opened her mouth, ready to tell the Winchester, but one last glance at the prop had her stepping away and shutting her mouth. Monster or not, that thing deserved to burn.

...

 **"I** t's not a tulpa." Sam's words greeted them the moment Dean waltzed back in through the door. Alex blinked, her only show of faux-surprise as she slipped by, circling around to stand at Sam's side. "It's not a tulpa," he repeated once more when Dean paused, confusion darkening his face.

"Say it one more time, but just a bit more like Arnold, like — 'it's not a tulpa.' " Dean's voice dropped low, and Alex laughed at his impersonation.

"Dude, come on." Sam's eyes rolled into the back of his skull, and Dean's grin faded. "It's Calliope."

"The goddess of poetry?" It was Alex's turn to show genuine confusion, and she tipped her head back to look up at Sam as she racked her mind for any knowledge about the Greek muse."Are you sure?"

"She's associated with this — the borage, or starflower." Sam reached for his phone to show them the picture, but Alex already had the image of the pale flower in her head. She nodded and turned back to the table where Maeve sat, a book in front of her.

'Okay, wait." Dean spoke up, and Alex hesitated. "If this is a god thing, then what's with the scarecrow?"

"According to the lore, Calliope manifests creatures from the story she's turned into," Sam explained.

"Sort of like Gabriel — trickster edition," Alex quickly corrected. "Great. At least she should be easier to corner than that slippery son of a bitch." She crossed over to the table and pulled the book close, fingers running down the smooth page as she skimmed the paragraphs.

"So … the scarecrow is still alive, and we burned my prop for nothing?" Marie's voice lifted in anger, and Alex shot her a look, eyebrows lifted in disbelief at her rage.

"Oh, that thing needed to burn," Dean promised darkly, and Alex loudly echoed his sentiment.

She ignored Sam's tight-lipped frown as she turned back to Maeve, motioning to the teen to get her to speak. "The only way to destroy the scarecrow is to kill Calliope," Maeve explained to Alex, and she reached over to pull the book away from the angel as she looked up at Sam for confirmation.

"Right," Sam agreed. "She uses these manifestations, like the scarecrow, to inspire the author and protect them … until their vision has been realized. Then … she eats the author."

Alex barely held back a laugh as Marie's face immediately went white as a sheet, and she ducked her head to keep her expression hidden. "Okay, t-that's _bad_!" Marie's voice shook. "Um, w-well, you get your wish. Let's cancel the show."

Sam, however, shook his head. "That's what your teacher and your classmate tried to do," he reminded. "They tried to shut you down, and the scarecrow took them. That's what it's doing. Protecting you and the show."

"Okay, so, the scarecrow is the boogeyman." Dean clapped his hands together, eyebrows knit in thought. "We got to take our shot with this, uh …"

"Calliope."

"Calliope," Dean finished with a nod in Alex's direction. "But she won't show herself until —" He turned to look down at Marie, "— your vision has been realized."

"So …" Marie's voice trembled. "What are you saying?"

"The show must go on." Dean clapped the teenager on the shoulder, and Alex took a seat down on the table as she looked between her four companions. To her surprise, Maeve didn't share in her friend's terror; her face was placid as she carefully watched Sam and Dean, the only outward show of trepidation buried deep in her eyes.

"Okay," Alex began, planting her hands behind her as she casually leaned back, "so how are we going to kill her? Pagan god usually means wooden stake — anything stipulations? Wood type, blood?" She looked over at Marie, who was bent over, breathe ragged as she tried to suck in air. "Is she still panicking? I thought we were past that."

"She's going to be eaten by a god," Maeve reminded, her voice flat with her typical distaste, but Alex simply shrugged it off.

"Oh please. Like we're actually going to let that happen." The angel pushed herself off of the table and crossed over to Sam and Dean. "So. When is this play supposed to premiere?"

...

 **T** he air pricked at her skin, sharp and heavy with nerves, and Alex did her best to brush off the feeling as she pushed her way backstage. She could feel panic, sharp as a bolt of lightning, and the angel followed the trail around to the left to the dressing rooms. "Hey!" Dean's voice was as sharp as the air, and Alex pushed her way in past the heavy black curtain. "Why don't you —"

"Why don't you guys rally Marie?" Sam said, and Alex swept her gaze across the crowded room of actors. Sam stood a head taller than all the rest, Dean at his side, and the angel paused to look between them and Marie, who was pacing back and forth in an absolute panic. "I'm gonna, uh, grab some wooden stakes in the trunk and do the blessing."

Sam placed a hand on her shoulder as he slipped past, and Alex turned her head to watch him go. "Is Marie gonna get eaten?" she heard Maeve ask Dean, and the angel snorted in amusement when she felt Marie's panic increased tenfold.

"Not gonna happen." Dean shook his head firmly, and his green eyes displayed his displeasure at the ill-judged comment. "Soon as that curtain rises, we're gonna be there to take out this Calliope. Alex." He waved her over, and the angel slipped through the throng of actors. "What have you got?"

"Doors have opened. People are trickling in." The angel rolled back her shoulders as a girl slipped past, mumbling an apology as their backs collided. "Where do you want me?"

"Backstage with me and Sam. He's out —"

"Blessing the stakes," Alex finished. "Yup, I heard. If it's all the same, I think I'll just use this." She drew her weapon from the back of her jeans, twisting it so the light glinted off the blade. Her grace melded with the metal, sending warmth through her veins, and the angel reluctantly hid it once again.

Dean gave a curt nod, and he brushed past her. "Hey!" he called to Marie, and Alex folded her arms across her chest as the teen turned to face them. "Hey. How are you doing, champ?"

"This … this is all my fault." Marie turned to stare up at Dean, her eyes wide and voice shaking. "If I hadn't written this dumb play, none of this would've happened."

"Okay, first of all, the play is not dumb."

"I … I thought you didn't believe in this interpretation." Marie's brow furrowed in confusion, and Alex pushed her way past Maeve to stand at Dean's side.

"Yeah, I don't. Like, like at all." Dean looked down at Alex, and when the angel nodded in full agreement, he shook his head. "But you do," he finished, his voice softening ever so slightly. "Okay? And I need you to believe in it with all you got so that we can kill Calliope, and we can save your friends. Can you do that?"

Marie sniffled, and her eyes fell closed as she steeled herself. "Yeah," she finally said. "You're right. If Sam and Dean were real, they wouldn't back down from a fight. Especially my sweet, brave, selfless Sam." Marie's voice grew soft, and she let out a longing breath. "There's nothing he can't do."

"A-Alex is brave, too," Alex put in helpfully, but her comment was ignored.

Marie sank down into a dressing chair and turned to face the brightly lit mirror. "Okay. Let's do this. I understudy Sam, so …" She reached over and grabbed a wig off of a mannequin, and Alex cocked an eyebrow, amused, as she carefully pulled the brown wig over her already brown hair. "I used this for my one-woman Orphan Black show last year," she explained. "But it's gonna have to work for Sam." She adjusted the wig one more time before she turned her attention to the mirror. "Writer. Director. Actor. I'm gonna Barbra Streisand this bitch."

"What you gotta do is get a life," Alex muttered, and with a shake of her head, she lifted her voice. "Alright. You go out there and … do whatever the hell it is that you guys are gonna do. We'll take care of this bitch."

Marie's voice was flat as their eyes met through the mirror. "You sound confident."

"Pagan gods are a milk run." Alex shrugged, unsure what else to say. "I've stared the devil in the eyes and walked away. You think I can't take down an overpowered child?" She let her grace boil up, and her eyes glowed blue, the light exaggerated by the dark room.

Marie let out a strangled noise and almost fell off her chair, and Alex ducked in time to miss Dean's swipe. "W-W —"

"Angel. And stop trying to hit me," she added to Dean, batting his arm away with a good-natured huff. "Point is, Calliope doesn't stand a chance against us; nothing is going to happen." She motioned to herself and Dean and turned at the sound of approaching footsteps just in time to see Sam step into view.

"No, no — you can't be an angel. A-Angels don't exist —"

"Hi, yes, yes, yet here I am. Alex, angel of the Lord. You've read about me." Alex waved her hand in a dismissive manner. "Maybe you don't remember — I didn't do much for the story after all —"

She cut off when a hand came to rest on her shoulder, warm yet firm."You could have waited to scare her until after the show," Sam reminded, and Alex barely held back a chuckle despite his displeased tone. "It's almost showtime," he announced, and he held out a wooden stake to his brother before glancing down at Alex. "You good?" Alex flashed him a thumbs up, and the Winchester's attention turned to Marie. "Everyone's out there waiting for you. Better get going." Marie hesitated, and he added, "We can talk afterwards, alright? But this show needs to go on."

Marie gave a determined nod, and Alex stepped aside as the teen rushed past, making sure to give the angel a wide berth. "Still don't like her, but I have to admit, the kid's got guts," she begrudgingly admitted. Sam lifted an eyebrow, and the angel scoffed. "What? She wrote me out of the play. _Me_ , Sam."

She was silenced by another tight squeeze, and Alex frowned as Dean gave her a pat of condolence on his way past. Sam followed with a shrug, and the young angel swiped a hand through her hair as she trailed after him. She could hear Marie, voice full of forced confidence as she made one last pass over the line of actors. "Okay, good, good, okay," she was saying, and Alex moved to Dean's side as Marie suddenly stopped in front of the teen dressed as Dean. "Alright. Samulet?"

The girl lifted the machete amulet that hung around her neck, and Dean's head tilted in confusion. "The … samulet?" he repeated.

"The amulet is a symbol of the Winchesters' brother love," Marie explained quickly, and Alex shrugged when Dean's questioning gaze turned down onto her.

"They look pretty good." Sam gave an appreciative nod as he tucked the stake into his jacket pocket, and Alex followed his gaze down the row of teens. "Wait a second … where's Chuck?"

"Oh, I-I-I, I love him," Marie began, "I do! But, honestly, the whole 'author introducing himself into the narrative' thing … it's just not my favorite. I kind of hate the meta stories."

Both Winchesters made noises of agreement, and Alex added, "Ah, so you wrote him out, too? Wow, never thought him and I would have anything in common."

Marie's face paled slightly, and Dean cleared his throat. "Alright, listen up, girls," he announced. "Now, you're all here because you love Supernatural."

"Actually, I was hoping we'd do _Wicked_ ," one of the actors put in, and Alex's lips turned up into an amused smile.

"Yeah, that'd have been easier," Dean quickly agreed. "Uh, I know I have expressed some differences of opinion regarding this particular version of _Supernatural_. But tonight, it's all about Marie's vision." He put a hand on Marie's shoulder, squeezing slightly in an act of comfort. "This is Marie's _Supernatural_. So, I want you to get out there, and I want you to stand as close as she wants you to, and I want you to put as much sub and as much text as you possibly can. There is no other road. No other way. No day but today."

Alex's eyes narrowed, intrigued by the familiar words, and behind her, she heard Maeve whisper, "Did he just quote _Rent_?"

"Not enough to get us in trouble," Marie whispered back.

"Now you get out there and you kick it in the ass!" Dean finished, and he stepped away as the actors circled up.

"Bring it in," Marie called, hand going out, and Alex sidestepped as the rest of the actors did the same, hands meeting in the middle of the circle. "Ghost …." they chanted, "facers." The last word was hissed out, fading into silence, and Alex looked up in time to see the Winchesters exchanging glances.

" 'Put as much sub in that text,' huh?" she asked as the actors dispersed, sidling up to Dean. "Having a change of heart about my mate?"

Dean grunted, and for a moment, the angel was sure he wasn't going to respond. "I'm just trying to bring Calliope into the open," he finally said. "The sooner Marie's vision is recognized, the sooner we can put this production down."

"Well said." Alex withdrew her weapon from the back of her jeans. "I'll set up a perimeter. Angel blade," she explained smugly when Marie's eyes went wide, and she twisted the short sword in her hand. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"You're enjoying this way too much," Sam murmured as he passed by, and Alex snorted in amusement as the hunter walked away.

"Up yours," she called after him before she let her arms fall back to her side. "Get out there," she told Marie. "You need to introduce the show."

"I'll start on this side," Dean announced as Maeve passed by. "You two start on the other." He walked away after the stage manager, and with a shrug, Sam moved off in the other direction.

The flash of a trench coat caught her attention, and Alex spun around. "Hey!" The angel pointed towards the thin actors. "Uh, Cas — uh, Kristen, right? Fake Cas. Can I get a picture with you?" Alex dug her phone out of her pocket. "The real Cas is gonna get a kick out of this," she added. The actor didn't protest, and Alex slung an arm around her shoulder as she snapped the picture. "Great, thanks." The angel patted the fake-angel between the black-wire wings as she stepped away. "Good luck out there."

She quickly sent the photo before she shoved her phone back into her pocket as the lights dimmed and the music ceased. Marie's voice drifted through the air, shaky with nerves, and Alex continued on, grace flicking out as she searched for anything supernatural. Music picked up, met with the voice of Siobhan — _Fake Dean_ , Alex corrected. Her phone buzzed, and the angel looked down at the screen as she wandered back towards Dean.

The text was from Castiel, and she grinned as she opened the message up. _Where are you? Why is that girl dressed like me?_

 _Working a case. And cause she's pretending to be you. I'll call ya later._ A hand on her shoulder had Alex jumping in surprise. "What?"

She clamped her jaw shut as Maeve shot her a loaded glare, and Dean motioned towards the stage with his wooden stake. "Thought I told you to stick with Sam," he whispered.

Alex squinted as she peered out onto the lit stage, trying to catch sight of the Winchester on the other side. "I was talking to Cas. Real Cas. He says hi," she lied before turning to Maeve. "Hey, is there a CD of these songs? This would make good driving music."

"Hey." Dean knocked her in the shoulder with the stake as he pointed across the stage. "There."

Alex stepped forward to see what the hunter was motioning at. The tall, dark shape of Sam Winchester was obvious, and he flashed them a thumbs up when he caught their gazes. Dean shook his head, arms waving, and Alex almost slipped on the floor as she tried accelerate into a run. A figure was behind Sam, dark and vile, and the angel tore off around the back of the stage.

Dean was close behind as she slid to a stop. Her toes knocked against a wooden stake discarded on the ground, and Alex snarled out her frustration as Dean stooped to pick it up. "Dammit," she hissed, careful to keep her voice low as the lights on stage dimmed. "What's it doing? It's supposed to go after Marie, not Sam!"

"It knows we're here to kill it." Dean held out the wooden stake, but Alex refused to take it. "Keep your head up. I'll go after Sam."

"Are you sure?" Alex hesitated as the hunter pushed the sharpened branch into her hands. "I mean, you sure you trust me that much? Maybe I should find Sam." She jammed the butt of the stake back into the Winchester's chest. "I can sense him easier, after all."

"Alex. Calliope isn't going to show her face here, not you around. If she sends anything, it'll be that scarecrow, and you're the one with the mojo to stop it." Dean held out the stake, and the angel's fingers closed around the rough bark.

"Okay," she relented, unwilling to show the small spark of pride in her chest at the Winchester's faith in her. "Go find Sam."

The lights went down, and Alex lifted her grace to her eyes to see Marie hurrying off the stage. "Where are Agents Smith and Smith?" she hissed, lookin around with wide eyes. "I saw — I saw the scarecrow take Agent Smith."

"Agent Smith went after Agent Smith." Alex shoved the wooden stake into Marie's hands before the dark-haired teen could ask any more questions. "Here. This'll put Calliope down if she shows her ugly mug. Keep it on you. Jacket pocket," she added when Marie looked down at the stake in surprise.

Her phone rang, and Alex pressed it up against her ear. "Uh, hey, Cas. Not a great time."

Her chest warmed at the deep, soft rumble of the seraph's voice. "I apologize. Where are you?"

"Michigan. Hunting down Calliope at this crazy play." Alex cast a look at the stage with a grin. "You're never gonna believe this. I'll call you later and tell you all about it once we kill the bitch. Alright?" The lights flickered on and then off again, and Alex lowered her voice. "Gotta go, love you, bye."

"Second act is starting," Marie announced, her voice tight to keep it from clenching, and Alex frowned as she looked down at her phone.

"Second act?" she repeated. "Already? How many acts are in this thing?"

"Five." Marie hurried back on stage, and Alex winced at the news.

She tucked her phone back into her pocket and pulled free her blade as she positioned herself besides the curtain to watch the play. "Five," she muttered under her breath. "Wonderful."

...

 _ **T**_ _o Marie's credit, the play was well-written._ That thought hung in the back of Alex's mind as she watched fake Castiel begin her solo, her dark-wire wings catching in the spotlight, and the angel tipped her head as she watched; _inaccurate, but well-written._ She sidestepped to let fake Dean come offstage, head tipped as she listened. She knew the night in question well: Sam, gone; Dean, in 2014; her, with Castiel in a small diner on the side of a dusty road. They had talked — and she had spoken to Jimmy Novak.

A huff of air left her breath as if she had been punched, and Alex's spine stiffened. It had been a long time since she had thought of Castiel's vessel; with Jimmy's soul vacated, she had no reason to.

"You okay?" Marie stopped at her side, and Alex jerked away in surprise.

"Of course," she promised hastily. "I was just thinking about … something. No sign of the scarecrow," she was quick to add. "Keep your eyes peeled, though."

"Oh trust me, I will." The teen straightened her jacket, trying to smooth down the crease where the wooden stake lay as the music ended. "That's my cue. Wish me luck."

"Luck." Alex stepped aside to let Marie through, and her eyes narrowed as she watched Kristen disappear off the other side of the stage. There was no sign of the scarecrow, but with the stage lights up, it was difficult to see into the dark corners. The angel huffed in anger and slipped off around the curtains to circle around to the other side. She could hear Marie singing, low and quiet at first but gaining strength. A gasp from the audience had her pausing, grace flicking outwards in search of the source of surprise.

Something stood on the stage, cold and inhuman, and Alex pushed her way around the thick black curtain. The lights immediately blinded her, and the angel screwed her eyes up against the brightness as her grace rose to immediately adjust her vision. The first thing she saw was Marie, standing at the edge of the stage; the second thing she saw a scarecrow. It was staggering towards the teen, uninterested in Alex's sudden appearance.

Her angel blade flashed through the air as the angel sprung forward, positioning herself between the monster and the girl before she lunged again. An arm came out, and she ducked and twisted, driving her weapon into the scarecrow's stomach and up beneath the ribs.

The monster snarled, and Alex's eyes went wide as a forearm caught her in the side of the head. The impact sent her flying backwards, and the angel crashed head first into a crudely-constructed wooden fence. It splintered beneath the impact, and the jagged edge of a fence post slammed into her back, ripping through her shirt, and Alex cried out in pain and alarm as the large splinters caught in her flesh. She rolled onto her stomach as her grace protested angrily, exploding outwards, and the angel flinched away as a large spotlight overhead sparked and died.

The scarecrow had turned back to Marie, Alex forgotten, and the angel grit her teeth as her fingers closed around the ragged prop. It came free with a tearing sound, leaving shards of wood behind, and the angel's fingers scrabbled against the smooth stage floor in momentary anguish as her grace closed the wound around the intrusions. Her angel blade lay on the floor, discarded by the unaffected monster, and Alex heaved herself to her feet with as much speed as she could muster, fighting back the shock to find that the scarecrow lived on. Why hadn't it died?

Marie had turned, eyes wide at the sight of the lumbering creature, and Alex staggered forward, teeth grit in determination. If she couldn't kill the scarecrow, she would just have to stall him.

"No chick flick moments!" Marie's sudden yell had the angel freezing in place. The teen had drawn the wooden sake out from her jacket, and as Alex watched, she plunged it deep into the scarecrow's chest.

The beast hesitated, surprised, and Alex hit the stage as the air trembled, rippling like water moments before the creature exploded into purple pus. The shattered wreckage of the set protected her from the splatter, but the angel still gagged at the stench, sickly sweet and overwhelming.

There was applause, almost drowned out by the ringing in her ears, and Alex pushed herself to her feet as the lights went down and the curtains fell. "Is — is it over?" she managed to wheeze out before her grace swept through her, giving strength to her limbs.

"Yeah, I-I think so." Marie was at her side, almost unrecognizable beneath the layer of purple grime, and Alex sidestepped when the teen tried to reach out and touch her. "I killed it —"

"What? No, no, the — the play." Alex nodded towards the fallen curtains. "Is it over?"

The girl's face twisted in confusion. "No, we're not even at the intermission. I should … I should go get changed," she added, looking down at her soiled costume. "I don't know what this is —"

"Probably nothing good." Alex clapped her on the shoulder before pulling away in disgust. "Good plan. I need to go find my friends. I'm fine, by the way," she promised before she hurried away, leaving Marie to explain their circumstances to the rest of the crew.

The hallways were empty, and the angel stretched her grace out, cautious at first, as she searched for any sign of the Winchester. "Dean?" she hissed as she turned the corner. "Sam?"

"Alex?" Distant footsteps broke into a run, and Alex turned around to watch the brothers appear from down the hallway. Two women were behind them, moving equally as fast, and Alex narrowed her eyes as she placed their faces: Mrs. Chandler and Maggie, the two missing victims.

"You found them." The angel's legs quivered, and she placed a hand on the wall to steady herself as nonchalantly as she could.

"And you're hurt." Sam exchanged a worried look with his brother as he came to stop in front of her. "What happened? Where's Marie?"

"She's backstage with the rest of her actors." Alex knocked away Sam's hand when it tried to reach towards her blood-stained t-shirt. "Stop. It's nothing, okay? The scarecrow went after Marie, I stabbed it — which did absolutely nothing, by the way — and it threw me back into the sets. I took a fence to the kidney." She lifted up the hem of her shirt to glance down at the half-healed skin, still red and raw. "I, uh … I might need you to pull some splinters out later."

"Yeah, of course." The Winchester's voice was rushed with concern, and Alex let her shirt fall back over the wound. "Calliope's dead —"

"Yeah, I know." Alex cut him off with a wave of her hand. "The scarecrow exploded in purple 'll probably hear Marie saying she killed it, since she happened to be stabbing it when the damn thing imploded, but …" The angel shook her head. "I don't know what that thing was made of, but it was damn near indestructible. My angel blade didn't even show it down."

"Well, important thing is it's dead now." Dean interrupted her before the angel could continue. "I say we go make sure she's okay and then hit the road."

"Sounds good." Alex fell in line at Sam's side as they made their way back towards the auditorium. "So where'd the scarecrow take you?" she asked. "All I saw was that he grabbed you, but by the time I got over there you were gone."

"We were down in the boiler room. Calliope was keeping us there until the play was over." The hunter shrugged, unsure of what else to say. "She's dead, and that's all that matters now. How's the — how's the play?"

"All things considered, pretty well. I think Marie's done a pretty good job of summarizing the books — me excluded." The angel waved off the thought with a dismissive flick of her hand. "I mean, we haven't gotten to any of the — the aliens, o-or robots yet, but so far it's good. If we want to keep any good memories of the play, we should probably leave before they show," she was quick to add.

"One step ahead of you." Dean turned the corner and pulled open the door that lead to the back of the auditorium. "I need a drink. Marie!" The Winchester lifted his voice to catch the teen's attention. "Over here."

"You're okay!" Marie's eyes stretched wide at the sight of them. "You — you disappeared after the scarecrow," she added to Alex. "I wasn't sure where you'd gone."

"Just off to find them." Alex jerked a thumb back towards Sam with a shrug. "You two say your goodbyes," she added back to the brothers. "Then we should probably hit the road."

Marie's face fell at the angel's words. "You're not staying for the finale?"

"Come on." Dean put a hand on the teen's shoulder, and Alex let the two of them walk away; the hunter could console her on his own.

"You know." Maeve's voice came from behind them, and Alex and Sam turned around. "Usually, this is when Sam and Dean take off. Before anyone asks any questions."

A small smile grew across the Winchester's face. "That's probably a good idea," he agreed with a chuckle.

Maeve echoed him, laughing at her own joke before her face grew serious. "Thanks for saving my friends." A beat passed, and her brown eyes sparkled once again. "You know? If you'd cut your hair a little, you'd make a pretty good Dean."

Sam laughed, head tipping back as he did so. "Thanks."

"Of course." Maeve's gaze turned onto Alex, whose eyes were narrowed, unsure if the teen was serious, or if it was just a deadpanned joke. "Good luck getting your wings back."

"Thank you." Alex ducked her head to hide her blush at the surprisingly warm compliment, and she cast a quick glance up at Sam. "We, uh, we should go find Dean. You guys should probably get the show back on the road," she added with a smile.

Maeve nodded, and she flipped down the microphone on her headset so she could speak into it. "One minute, folks," she announced. "One minute." She hurried away, and Alex's grace stretched out as she tried to locate Dean. The stage was bustling as actors tried to find last minute props, and the angel lost sight of Sam as she wove her way through the crowd.

She found him standing beside the curtains, looking out onto the stage as the house lights dimmed and the stage lights rose. Marie was out there, standing beside fake Dean, and the Winchester tore his gaze from them as Sam stopped at his side. "Well, I guess we can go back to staring at motel room walls," he said quietly, careful not to drown out the actors on stage.

"You know what, Dean?" Sam's hesitation had his brother's eyebrows lifting. "You were right. Staying cooped up isn't helping us. We need —"

"We need to get back on the road, Dean." Marie spoke at the same time, and Sam cut off in surprise. "Doing what we do best."

"W-What is that?" Sam's brow furrowed, confused by the scene that stood before him.

Dean shrugged, his gaze turning back out onto the stage. "It's the uh … the B.M. Scene."

"The … bowel movement stage?"

"No!" Dean hissed out the word when Sam spoke too loud, and the hunter fell quiet at his brother's reprimand. "Just … shh." He folded his arms across the chest, and Alex chanced a look up into Sam's face as the Winchester gave a small shrug.

"You're right, Sammy." Fake Dean looked out over the crowd as she spoke. "Out on the road. Just the two of us."

"The two of us against the world."

Sam chuckled at Marie's words, and his hazel eyes flickered over to Dean. "What she said." The lights changed, and the beginning chords of a song started up over the sound system.

Alex's head tipped as she recognized it, a rendition of Kansas that was soft and slow, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the cardboard replica of Dean's old amulet, gripped tight in the Winchester's callous hands. "We should get going," she murmured, turning to go, but a gentle hand on her shoulder had the angel pausing.

"In a minute." Dean's gaze was still focused on the stage. "I want to see this first."

The two teens had started singing, and Alex slowly turned back, unsure how to describe the sound; somehow sad, somehow hopeful, and yet somehow still neither of those two. It was mesmerizing as the voices joined together, twisting and dipping through the melody. More rose to join them as other actors filed out onto the stage, and Alex stepped aside to let a thin girl slip past. "Who's that?" Sam whispered, pointing to the short-haired teen, and Alex gave an exaggerated shrug.

"Oh, that's Adam." Maeve spoke up from behind them, and the angel looked back in surprise. "John Winchester's other kid. He's still trapped in the cage. In Hell. With Lucifer."

Alex felt Sam and Dean exchange guilty looks over her head, and she unfolded her hands to shove them into her pockets. "Yeah," she agreed. "We know where he is. Thanks."

She knew her reassurance fell on deaf ears, and she turned back to face the stage as Maeve walked away. Her heart swelled alongside the music, and the angel leaned her head against Sam's shoulder as the voices rose one last time.

 _Carry on my wayward son._  
 _There'll be peace when you are done._  
 _Lay your weary head to rest._  
 _Don't you cry no more._

 _Carry on._

 _..._

* * *

 ** _I loved this episode! It was fun to write, but I also had such high expectations that I feel some areas were a little underdone. But at the same time, I enjoyed bashing my own writing a bit :)_**


	7. Ask Jeeves

**January 23rd, 2015  
Flint, Michigan**

 **P** ain shot up her side, a sharp, lingering twinge, and Alex cried out in surprise. She twisted, trying to avoid the sting, but a firm hand on her side kept her still and pinned her to the bed beneath. "Stop." Sam's frown was evident in his words, and the angel hissed as his blunt fingernails dug into her skin. " I can't get these out if you keep squirming."

Tweezers brushed against her side, and Alex wrangled her grace in to keep it under control as they once again grasped a thick splinter in her skin. "Ouch." The word was sharp and punctuated, and Alex dug her teeth into the pillow as Sam pulled the wooden shard free.

"I think that's the last one." Sam patted her on the thigh before he pulled away. "How's it feel?"

"Good." The angel rolled over and pushed herself to her knees, stretching to feel how her muscles moved as she let her grace spill out and fill her veins. It knitted the flesh back together, now unhindered by the intrusion, and she let her eyes close for a second as the pain disappeared. "It feels much better. Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem." Sam set the tweezers down onto the nightstand as he stood up. "Let me know if there's anything else you need, alright?" His eyes drifted up to the clock on his wall, and he frowned. "Dean should be back soon."

"How long are we going to stay here?" The angel adjusted her shirt so it sat comfortably against her healing wound as she followed his gaze. "As much as I love this town, I'm still pretty freaked about that play." She slipped past the Winchester to grab her sweatshirt off of the other bed, muttering, "Also this snow can kiss my ass."

She heard Sam chuckle from behind her. "Spoken like a true northerner."

"Don't get me started." Alex dropped down onto the bed as headlights flashed through the dark motel windows. "Dinner's here."

The headlights died, and after a minute, the door swung open. "Hey." Dean kicked the motel door closed behind him, carefully juggling the three white takeout bags in his hands. His gaze flickered between Alex and Sam, and he asked, "How'd it go?"

"Good. I got them all out." Sam slowly sat down on his bed as his brother crossed over to them, handing each of them a bag.

"Great." Dean sat down next to his brother, legs swinging over the side of the bed so he could face Alex. "So. We gonna talk about this?"

"This?" The plastic rustling of the bag ceased as Alex looked up in confusion. "Talk about what?" She shifted on the bed, drawing her legs up underneath her as she looked between the two Winchesters in confusion.

"We just want to make sure you have our backs," Sam began, his hazel eyes soft with sympathy, and the angel swallowed uneasily, unsure of where the conversation was heading. "But ever since you've been back —"

"You're oh for two when it comes to safe hunts," Dean interrupted, cutting to the chase. "Hell, if you were human, you'd be dead. More than dead."

"Well, I'm _not_ human, so I'm okay." Alex narrowed her eyes as she set her food on the bed beside her. Her grace twisted within her chest, flicking down to the old injuries the brothers were talking about, one resting right on top of the other. "And of course I have your backs — when's the last time that I've let you down?"

"That's not what this is about —"

"Yes it is, you said it yourself!" Anger flared in her eyes, and Alex's fingers tightened on the bag.

"That's not what we meant," Sam corrected patiently. "We're just worried about you. You seem … out of practice."

"And someone your size, that doesn't always end well," Dean finished. "Hell, I could probably throw you halfway across the room myself." He ripped open his food bag and pulled out a handful of fries, eyebrows lifting in amusement as he imagined the action.

"I'm pretty sure I could still kick your ass," Alex retorted. "And, geez, I'm sorry that what's basically been four month of sitting on my ass has put me a bit out of practice." She reluctantly removed the styrofoam container from her bag as she added, "I'm starting to get my game back. If that scarecrow could have actually died, I wouldn't have gotten hurt."

Dean held up his hands in mock surrender, but before he could speak, Sam stepped in. "Listen, we don't want you to get the wrong idea, alright? No one — we're not trying to bench you. We're just trying to help."

"Well, except we are sort of benching you." Dean wiped his hand on his jeans as he set his burger down. "So here's the thing. We head back to the bunker, look for a new case or two, and in the meantime we get you back up to speed. Those sparring mats are still set up upstairs, right?" He glanced at his brother, and Sam gave a nod.

Alex looked between the two brothers, and she snapped her jaw shut when she realized that it had been hanging open. "Okay," she slowly began. "I-I mean, I can get behind sparring, but I-I don't need it." Dean's eyebrow cocked, and she added, "Werewolves, gods — I don't care. They can't truly hurt me. But when it really comes down to it, I can still fight."

"You sure?" Dean's eyes narrowed when Alex nodded, and his frown darkened. "You've been hunting, haven't you?"

Sam let out a breath at the realization, and the angel took a moment to open up her meal. "I've been doing my job and cleaning up a mess," she corrected. "All those Abaddon followers that you didn't kill? They're still kicking, and all of sudden they're my responsibility."

"You're hunting them down on your own?" Dean's face darkened as he looked Alex up and down. "Or are you working with someone and you just do the heavy lifting? Who is it? Scotty?" His voice grew sharp. "Is it Scotty?"

"No, it's not Scotty." Alex tore a fry in half between her fingers as she scoffed. "If you really care, I'm working with Juliet. I'm no joking," she added when Dean rolled his eyes. "Apparently I have a way with animals."

"What?" Sam looked between the two of them, his brow creased in confusion. "You mind telling me what's going on?"

"Hellhound." Alex and Dean spoke at the same time, and the angel took a small bite of her chicken sandwich. "Juliet's a hellhound. She's tracking down the demons, and then I kill them. Body count's up to around ten by now, so you're welcome." The brothers exchanged looks, and she shrugged. "So. We're making our way back to the bunker and find some things to kill, right? Great. Let me know when something comes up."

...

 _ **T**_ _he hot, stifling air was overwhelming, and Alex licked her lips as a hot breeze sucked all the moisture out of her skin. A black, sulphurous courtyard stretched out ahead of her, and the stone, flecked with smoldering gold, was the only source of light. Above her head stretched blackness, as thick and heavy as a curtain, and the young angel's wings flicked nervously. The raven feathers seemed to glow ashen, and the barbs dug into her bare skin with each shift of her muscles._

 _The stone beneath her soles was cool, a sharp contrast to the blistering air, and Alex's feet carried her forward on their own accord. Black obsidian pillars rose up out of the darkness, twisting like devilish horns into the sky above, but the angel pressed on, carefully skirting the coiling structures. The further she wandered, the more they appeared, growing closer and closer together until they merged, creating a single, roiling hall that drew her in deeper._

 _A light appeared up ahead, a single pinprick in the dark, and Alex moved closer, stretching out a hand to touch the small, levitating orb._

 _The room flashed and disappeared in an explosion of light, leaving her standing alone in the whiteness. Her wings were gone, and the girl shivered as a cool breeze brushed across her bare back. "Hello?" She spoke for the first time, lifting her voice in hopes that it might carry, but no answer came._

 _Something shimmered in the distance, growing clearer the more she stared, and Alex's feet carried her towards it as fast as they could. It was a mirror; her pale skin stared back at her, glowing with the whiteness of the room, and as she watched her form faded away as another took its place. "Cas?" Blue eyes stared blankly ahead, and Alex thudded her palm against the glass. "Hey! Castiel!"_

 _The eyes flickered down, blinking once in recognition, and the young angel took a hesitant step back. The blue wasn't right; it was too light, too sharp. Castiel's eyes were oceans; these were ice._

 _Castiel's lips curved up into a smile, his face taking on life as he grinned down at her, and Alex understood._

 _Lucifer._

The slamming of a door had her jerking awake, and Alex sat up with a noise of surprise. "Dammit!" She looked around, trying to find the source of the noise, and her eyes landed on Sam, an apologetic look on his face as he reached out to steady the bathroom door.

"Sorry." He crossed the room to the small kitchenette, and Alex fell back onto the pillows with a grunt of frustration. "How'd you sleep?"

"Could've slept better." With a resigned sigh, she sat up, shoulders cracking as she rolled them back. The movement jarred her healing side, and the angel bit back a grunt of pain as she lowered her shoulders once again. "Where's Dean?"

"Outside. I was about go bring him some coffee." Sam motioned to the insulated cups that sat beside him on the small counter. "I made you some, too."

"Great." Alex pushed herself to her feet and tugged her hoodie down over her torso, wrinkled from her night's sleep. "Thanks."

"No problem." Sam grabbed two cups and crossed over to the door, and Alex picked up her own, carefully sniffing at the hot liquid before she followed after the tall hunter with a shrug.

The air was chilly, reminder that, even though they had outrun the Michigan snow, winter was still on its way. Dean was kneeling in front of the car, his toolbox laying at his side, and the angel took a sip of her still-scalding drink as Sam cleared his throat. "Hey," he announced, holding out the small, disposable demitasse. "Individually brewed. Technology, man."

Dean rose to his feet and accepted the drink, frowning as he held it in his large hand. "Real men don't drink out of cups this small," he scoffed, sniffing his drink with hesitant curiosity. "What is that? Cinnamon roll?"

"It's, uh, glazed donut." Sam glanced down at Alex with a shrug. "Look, man, if you don't want it, I —"

"Nah, it's … got it." Dean took a sip before he dusted off his free hand on his jeans. "So, any leads on the scanner or the Interweb?"

Sam shook his head, blowing across his coffee to cool it down. "Nothing. Not even a cat up a tree."

"So, right when we're ready to jump back into it, it goes, uh, radio silence." The Winchester's voice was grim, and after a second his gaze dropped down to the newly repaired headlight.

"Murphy's law," the angel murmured, her voice loud enough to draw the brothers' attention onto her.

"Well, Murphy's a douche." Dean toed the toolbox closed, shoving a hand into his pocket before he hesitantly spoke up. "Hey, feel like taking a detour to Connecticut?" He pulled out an old cell phone and held it up when Sam tipped his head in surprise. "Found it while I was dustbusting."

"One of ours?" Sam accepted the phone, flipping it open and turning it in his hands, but he handed it down to Alex when Dean shook his head.

"It's one of Bobby's." The words had Alex looking up in surprise, and the hunter cleared his throat. "And, in total, twenty seven messages. The only one that counts is from two days ago." Dean motioned towards the phone with his drink, and Alex grunted in acknowledgment as she scrolled through the list of voicemails. "Apparently Bobby's been named a beneficiary in Bunny LaCroix's will."

"Bunny who?" Sam asked, and Alex snapped the phone closed, adding, "Never heard of her. Should I have heard about her?"

Dean merely shrugged. "Attorney says she's an heiress, and Bobby's presence or next of kin is being requested in New Canaan. I figured we qualify."

Alex nodded. "We're the closest things he had to family," she agreed softly. "I just … how did Bobby know an heiress? He never mentioned her to me, but if he's in her will … they must have known each other well."

"Bobby had secrets, man." Dean shrugged again, clearly at a loss as of what to say. "Like loving Tori Spelling." For a moment, his voice grew distant. "If only he knew Dean cheated on her. Anyways. Road trip? Who knows — maybe Bobby earned us some beer money."

"I thought we were going back to the bunker." Even though their eyes didn't meet, Alex could feel Sam's words pointed in her direction, and she frowned as last night's conversation came back to her.

The small frown on Dean's lips showed he had expected some resistance. "Like you said; there's nothing worth our while. We stop by, pick up our prize, and then we're on our way. What could go wrong?"

Sam scoffed, eyes rolling in amusement. "Yeah. You know saying that means something's definitely going to go wrong, right?"

For a second, Dean's grin wavered. "Yeah, well, knock on wood." He knelt to scoop up his tools. "Go get packed, and then we can head out. But if this does turn out to be a case, you're still benched, alright?" A pointed finger was cast in Alex's direction, and the angel's brow furrowed. "You stick with me or with Sam."

Sam loudly cleared his throat, a nonverbal indication of his displeasure with Dean's forwardness, and Alex narrowed her eyes. "And if I don't? And what exactly are you going to do about it?"

...

 **"W** ife?" Alex recoiled in shock, her own surprise drowning out Sam's faint echo. Her angel blade slipped off her lap as the Impala came to a stop, and the angel dipped down to dig it out from beneath the front seat.

"Yeah." Dean slung an arm over the backrest as he looked back at her. "It's perfect. You'll have a solid in, and we'll be able to make sure you don't accidentally get yourself killed." He leaned forward in front of his brother and pulled open the glove compartment, and Alex exchanged a look with Sam before the eldest Winchester straightened back up. "Here." A small ring was held in his hands, and the young angel reluctantly took it.

"Why can't I just be me?" she complained as she slipped the silver band onto her finger, examining the hard stone that was clamped tightly in the metal prongs. "No one's going to believe that I'm married to Sam — no offense," she was quick to add.

Dean scoffed, and the engine died. "It's believable," he promised. "Trust me; they'll buy it." He threw open the door, and with a small shrug, Sam followed. Both doors slammed shut, and the angel pursed her lips, hesitating a moment as she contemplated petulance before she reluctantly followed suit.

She tucked her weapon into her jeans as she stepped out onto the pavement, and her eyes turned up onto the white, magnificent mansion that lay in front of them. The brothers were halfway to the front door, and the angel hurried to join them on the stairs as Dean rang the doorbell. The distinguished melody of Beethoven's _Fuer Elise_ drifted through the interior foyer, and after a second, the lock unlatched and the door swung open.

A woman stood there, dressed in the traditional black and white of a maid, and Alex's eyebrows lifted in momentary surprise before she lowered them; of course a mansion of this size would have a maid or two. "May I help you?"

"Hi." A warm grin split Dean's face. "I'm Dean Winchester. This is Sam Winchester."

"And I'm Alex," Alex quickly added before the hunter could introduce her himself.

"Winchester," Dean broke back in, motioning between her and Sam, and the angel shoved her hands into her pocket, grunting as the ring caught on the worn denim. "They're married. We're here on behalf of Bobby Singer."

The maid looked between the three of them, and then her gaze moved past them as if searching for someone else. "Mr. Singer won't be coming?" she finally asked.

"He passed away two years ago." Alex blinked, surprised at how her voice still quavered after so long, and she swallowed to regain control. "I … Bobby was my uncle."

"Oh." The woman's eyes softened ever so slightly. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Alex simply nodded, and she stifled a surprised jump when a large hand came to rest around her waist. "Uh, condolences for your loss, too," Sam added, and Alex echoed him quietly.

"Thank you." The maid stepped aside, motioning into the luxurious house behind her. "Well, you just missed the funeral, but the family's relaxing inside if you'd like to join."

Dean nodded and stepped inside, and when Sam motioned for her to go first, Alex followed. The maid took the lead, and Sam moved to walk at her side. "You okay?" His voice was a quiet murmur, just loud enough for her to hear.

"I'm fine." The angel did her best to mimic his tone. "I'm going to kick Dean's ass later, though." She shrugged to show she wasn't truly affected, but before there was time to say anything else, they entered a room.

There were five people, three women and two men, and Alex pursed her lips as she ran her eyes across all of them. "Allow me to introduce Sam, Dean, and Alex Winchester." The maid's quiet voice was polite as she addressed the family, and all five looked up, surprise mingling with their curiosity.

"Sam and Dean Winchester of the Westchester Winchesters?" an older blonde asked, her voice prim and proper, and Alex shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of her own dress, shabby in comparison to the wealthy family.

"Uh, no." Sam hesitantly shook his head. "I don't think there's any relation. Sorry."

The woman studied them, blue eyes lingering on Sam for a moment longer before a small smile tugged at her lips. "No matter. You two are adorable. I'm Heddy, Bunny's cousin, and this is my sister, Beverly." She motioned with her drink to the second older woman, similar in all regards except for longer, slightly lighter hair.

Beverly dipped her head in greeting, her own eyes sparkling as she smiled at Sam and Dean. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Heddy's glass turned to point to the man at the pool table. "And that's Bunny's youngest brother Stanton. Stan for short."

Like the other two, Stanton's face held signs of age, but his voice was bright with life. "Come on in, fellas, join the mourning." He lifted his pool cue as he lined up with the cue ball, and Alex's head tipped slightly in curiosity as Heddy's eyes darkened, clearly off put by something about the man.

"And his child bride … Amber." The displeasure in her tone was clear, and Alex turned her attention to the youngest and last woman. That would certainly explain it.

The woman had apparently not heard her own introduction, her attention fully rapt by the game at hand. "Go, Stan!" she cheered, and her sudden, startling burst of excitement had the cue stick sliding off to the side. The white ball spun down the table, barely nicking a cluster of striped billiards, and Stan cursed beneath his breath. "Babe, don't." The quick burst of frustration was quickly quelled as he turned to face his younger wife. "You're breaking my concentration."

The other man in the room chuckle from where he was leaning up against the fireplace, and Heddy took a sip of her drink. "And then there's Dash," she finished. "That's the baby of the family. He's Bunny's great nephew — Harvard business."

Unlike the rest of his relatives, Dash's hair was a dark brown, and he swept his hand through the strands as he looked the three of them up and down. "How did you guys know Aunt Bunny?" he asked, the slightest tint of wariness lying beneath his curiosity.

"We, uh …" Dean started, and Sam was quick to take over. "We — _we_ didn't personally know her," he explained. "Our — Alex's uncle, Bobby Singer, did."

"Bobby?" Beverly spoke slowly, testing the name on her tongue as she searched her memory. "Never heard of him. But you can fill us in over the weekend, huh?"

"Didn't the attorney tell you?" Heddy added when the three voiced their surprise. "Service was today and the reading of the will tomorrow."

"But you're welcome to spend the night," Beverly added. "All the rooms sleep two."

"Or three." Heddy's words were emphasized as she leaned forward to grab Dean's bicep, and Alex watched as Dean jumped back in surprise. The angel shifted closer to Sam as Dean stuttered out a faux-enthusiastic "okay."

"Where's Colette?" Amber suddenly spoke up, looking around as if she had just noticed something for the first time, and Alex let her own eyes travel the room..

They landed on a man — a butler — one she hadn't noticed until then, and he cleared his throat before he spoke. "She quit," he explained, his voice soft and vaguely accented. "Poor dear was so distraught over Mrs. LaCriox's passing. Went off to find herself."

"Ashram in India?" Heddy guessed, but the butler shook his head.

"Uh, clown college in Sarasota." He turned his back when Heddy muttered something under her breath, and he approached the three of them with a slight frown. "May I have a word with you in the hall for five minutes?"

"Sure." Dean blinked, surprised at the request, and he let the elderly man lead them out of the room.

Alex turned to follow, but Beverly's voice had her hesitating. "So, Sam," the older blonde began, voice thick with seduction, "tell me … do you work out?" She reached out, hands stretching across his bicep, and the angel twisted the ring on her hand before she cleared her throat. Sam jumped, and Alex pointedly took his hand before she tugged him after Dean.

"Charmed I'm sure …" The eldest hunter was muttering under his breath. "What are these people?"

"I think they're called W.A.S.P.S." Sam pulled his hand free to rub his arm where the woman had grabbed him, and Alex shoved her hands into her pocket, throwing a wary look over her shoulder in case any of the cougars had dared to follow.

Dean opened his mouth, ready to ask what his brother meant, but Sam cleared his throat in warning as the butler approached, an envelope in his hands. "My apologies for being so oblique back there," the gentleman began, "but I'm doing you three a favor."

"Okay," Sam said slowly, and Alex was quick to add, "Who exactly are you?"

"My name is Phillip. As you know, Mrs. LaCriox bequeathed something to your Mister Singer. But the reading of the will isn't until tomorrow, and I would hate for you to stick around and be forced to, well … mingle with the family."

Dean scoffed in amusement. "Don't worry, Alfred, we know which one the shrimp fork is. Kind of."

"Oh, Mr. Winchester, if you're implying that I don't think you're good enough, it's quite the contrary. You're far too good. The LaCroix family is … how shall I say this politely?" Phillip's fingers toyed calmly with the worn end of the envelope as he thought. "Money grubbing leeches."

"What are you talking about?" Dean looked up at his brother; Sam merely shrugged. "I thought they were all loaded."

"Loaded, yes. Rich, no. The recession hit every one of them, and I'm afraid if they knew what Bunny left you, those vultures would try and stake claim." Alex's eyebrows lifted, her interest now peaked, and she let her grace sneak out to try and feel what lay inside the envelope. "And since the attorney kindly agreed to a hand-off, you don't have to be subjected to their scrutiny."

He handed the envelope to Dean, and once it had passed hands, Sam asked, "Do you have any idea how Bunny and Bobby knew each other?"

The sound of footsteps behind them had Alex turning in time to see the maid. "Not in the slightest," Philip answered. "Now if there's nothing else, shall I have Olivia show you out?"

The maid moved closer at the sound of her name, but Dean simply shook his head. "No, no. That's uh … we got it. Thanks." He moved aside so Olivia and Philip could walk away, and Alex fell in step behind the brothers as they made their way back towards the front door. She leaned forward curiously when the envelope was ripped open, and Dean pulled free a large, wooden, bejeweled cross. "Huh." The Winchester turned it over in his hands. "Kind of fancy to leave a guy like Bobby."

He handed it over to Sam by the chain, and the Winchester tapped one of the large diamonds with his nail. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"If Bunny was banging Bobby, then maybe those rocks are real," Dean finished.

"Let me see." Alex squeezed between the brothers to grab the cross. She let her grace rush out as she tried to identify the stones, but the energy spiraled out of control, and she flinched away as a nearby lamp exploded into flames, the cloth shade burning to ashes within a second.

"Hey!" Dean yanked the cross back out of her hands. "The fuck, Pip?"

"Sorry!" Alex drew her grace back in, rolling it into a ball and shoving it deep inside. "I'm trying to control it, but it's still volatile."

"Well, then dont fucking use it." Dean pushed his way out the front door, and Alex shoulders fell as she paused on the front step.

"It's okay." Sam hand squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Just be careful. We don't want you getting hurt."

"Yeah." Alex followed him down the steps to the Impala, shoving her hands into her pockets. "That seems to be the theme of the day, doesn't it?"

...

 **T** he jewels had been fake. Alex turned the cross over in her hands, her fingers tracing the small, hard rocks embedded in the wood. It hadn't taken the pawn shop worker long to figure it out, much to Dean's disappointment. Her fingers closed around the cross at both ends, and she pulled. The ends separated, and the steel form of a key glittered in the faint light. "Where do you think the key's to?"

"No idea." The Impala turned onto the road that led up to the LaCriox's mansion, and Alex's eyes squinted through the dark as red and blue lights flickered in the night. "Shit." Dean pulled the car up alongside the cops, and Alex put the cross back together and slipped it into her pocket as she stepped out of the car.

The police car in the driveway was empty, its lights flashing against the mansion's stucco siding, and the angel frowned. "What the hell?" She circled around to walk beside Dean. The door was closed, and the angel's grace snuck out to ring the doorbell as they made their way up the stairs.

It was Phillip who answered the door. "Everything okay?" Dean's gaze slid past the butler to peer down the hall, curious as to what lay inside.

"Not really." The door swung open fully, and Phillip stepped aside to let the hunters through. "I presume you three left something behind," he added as they stepped onto the tile floor. "I'll check the front closet for burlap."

Dean's eyes narrowed at the insult. "I got news for you, Mr. Belvedere. The jacket's canvas."

"You three were here earlier?" A voice from their left had the three hunters turning. A man stood there, dressed in a suit and tie, and Alex's lips pursed at the familiar sight of a law official. Dark eyes studied them meticulously, and the angel's attention flickered down to the french cut beard, the only sign of hair upon his head. The man drew back the bottom of his jacket to reveal a badge and gun both clipped to his belt. "Detective Howard," he introduced. "New Canaan P.D. Congratulations, you're now officially murder suspects."

Dean's green eyes glittered in surprise. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Yeah, Bunny LaCroix's brother Stanford was killed this evening." The detective let his jacket slide back to cover his badge. "His body's just gone to the morgue. I don't know what to think," he added at Dean's nonverbal prompt. "And that's why you three and anyone else who stepped foot in this house today is being detained for questioning."

"How'd he die?" Alex tipped her head curiously. "I-I mean you say murder so there must be signs of foul play, but …"

"You'll know everything that you need to." Detective Howard's voice left no room for further pursuit of the subject, and Alex followed Sam and Dean into the lounge at the detective's gesture.

The scene inside was chaos. "Beverly, let go of me!" Heddy was demanding, voice raised in anger. "It's so obvious she's guilty." She yanked her hand out of her cousin's grip, who collapsed back onto the couch in a display of grief.

"You're off your rocker, old lady." Dash stood in front of her, head held high and voice sharp as he confronted his relative.

"Old lady? I —" Heddy's gaze flickered over to them, and she cut off in surprise, eyes lingering on Sam a little too long for Alex's liking. "I'm thirty nine," she finished pointedly.

Dash's blue eyes swept across the three, and when he spoke, his sideways comment was pointed in their direction. "And you have been since '03."

"How — how dare you!"

"I-I'm sorry to interrupt," Sam started, and Heddy's anger immediately dissipated as she turned to the Winchester. "But … who's guilty?"

"The town slut." The old blonde's voice was thick with scorn. "Amber. She killed Stan!" She turned back to face Dash, the rage returning as it twisted her face into a scowl.

The dark-haired man, however, just scoffed loudly. "And what's her motive, Murder She Wrote?"

"Oh, everyone knows that Amber was sleeping around." Heddy's eyebrows lifted as she looked over at Sam, and Alex felt the Winchester shift uncomfortably beside her. "She wanted to leave Stan but her prenup was ironclad. So, she killed him."

"Sounds logical," Dean agreed, although the angel couldn't tell if the sincerity in his voice was real.

The old woman's nodded before she added scornfully, "Well, unless you believe that ridiculous story that she's been peddling. A _ghost_ killed Stan. Honestly." She shook her head disgracefully, but her words had all three hunters exchanging glances of interest.

"Uh, a … ghost?" Sam's hazel eyes flickered in surprise, and Alex echoed him in a much quieter tone.

Heddy nodded. "She's claiming that Bunny's late husband Lance did it. Have you ever heard of such a thing?" She scoffed again. "What a panic! So stupid."

"You're as nutty as a squirrel on those synthetic hormones," Dash snapped, and Heddy's mouth feel open in shock.

"Nutty?" she repeated, aghast. "How appalling of you. Don't they teach you manners in Harvard?"

Alex felt the two Winchesters take a step back behind her, and she turned away, leaving the LaCriox family to their bickering. "So," she began, voice low in a murmur. "Maybe we could have a case here after all. Some sort of vengeful spirit?"

"Looks like." Dean's distaste was clear, and Alex chanced a look up to see a flicker of smugness in Sam's eyes. "Skip the 'I told you so,' alright?" A pointed finger jabbed into her chest, and Alex batted it away. "And you. Until we know what's going on, you're sticking with me or with Sam."

"You can't be serious." Alex's eyes darkened, the flecks of blue fading to steel grey. "Dean! I'm twenty three. I think I can damn well take care of myself."

"Yeah, you've proven that." The Winchester's voice was dry with scorn, and the angel pursed her lips. "Alright. You think we can get to the car, get the EMF?"

"Not with, uh, Detective Friendly." Sam cast a glance back towards the hall where Detective Howard was still speaking with Phillip. "Not a change. Guess we're gonna have to go old school."

"Alright. Cold spots it is." Dean clapped Alex on the back. "You come with me, see what those feelers of yours pick up. Sam, you stay here. Keep an eye on Mrs. Peacock and Colonel Mustard."

Dean slipped away, and with a nod to Sam, Alex followed. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the wooden cross. "Dean." She held it out, the pendant swinging from its chain. "Here. You should carry this. In case we find something."

Dean nodded and tucked the key into his jacket pocket. "Thanks." He hesitated, lips parted as if he was about to say something before he decided against it and continued towards the stairs.

"Yeah, no problem. Just holler if you find anything." Alex shoved her free hand into her jeans as she jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "I'll start on that end. It's a big house," she was quick to add when Dean's face hardened. "If we want to solve this one before anyone else bites it, we need to cover as much ground as possible. Which means we split up. You can't protect me forever, and if I find anything suspicious, I _promise_ I'll let you and Sam know."

"And if I say no?"

Alex shrugged carelessly. "Then I'm just going to sneak off sometime in the next ten minutes when you're not looking and hunt this thing down all by myself." The slight downward turn of Dean's lips was all she needed to know that she had won. "Great. You go up, I'll stay down." The Winchester reluctantly nodded, and Alex turned her back and sauntered off down the hall.

...

 **T** he mansion was larger than she had expected, full of twists and turns, and more than once the young angel almost lost her sense of direction. Her grace, no longer tightly bound within her, flowed outwards, feeling their way along the walls around her in search of anything suspicious, but there was nothing.

The sound of voices reached her ears as Alex rounded a corner, and she followed them back to the lounge. Sam sat at a table with Heddy and Beverly, an assortment of playing cards in his hands, his shoulders hunched in concentration. The two older women were paying more attention to the hunter than they were to their cards, and Alex leaned up against the wall, content to watch in amusement. She went to shove her hands into her pockets, but when something caught against the denim fabric, she frowned. The ring — that's right. She was supposed to be married.

She watched Sam jump in surprise as an unseen hand moved across his knee, and the angel's shoulders fell as sympathy took hold. Perhaps she should help him. "I'm back." She strolled across the room, taking her hands out of her pockets to rest them on Sam's shoulders as she stopped behind his chair, dipping her head only long enough to press a quick kiss on his cheek. She felt him jump again, surprised by her actions, and the angel settled herself for resting her cheek against his hair to hide her amused grin. "Whatcha playing?"

She pulled away, stepping back to give the hunter his space as she dropped down onto the arm of a chair. "Gin Rummy," Sam explained, stuttering slightly before he cleared his throat. "Where's, uh, where's Dean?"

Alex shrugged. "Off somewhere. I'm not your brother's keeper — not anymore, at least." She smiled over at Heddy and Beverly, which faltered at the contemptuous looks. Her grey eyes turned back onto Sam, frowning slightly at the prospect of two new enemies that merely saw her as competition. "Wonderful."

Dean appeared in the doorway, Olivia half hiding behind him, and the angel straightened up curiously. She tapped Sam, nodding towards his brother, and Sam awkwardly bumped the table as he jumped to his feet. "You know what," he said as Alex hurried over to Dean, "uh, excuse me."

"No, no, stay," she heard Beverly protest, her voice low enough for Alex not to hear without her grace, and the angel cocked an eyebrow at the brazen comment. The approaching footsteps signaled that Sam had paid them no heed, and her shoulders stiffened in surprise when his hand came to rest on her waist.

"You two are adorable." A lopsided grin flashed across Dean's face, lasting for barely a second, and Sam's hand fell away with a scowl. "Anyways. You seen the butler?"

"No." Sam looked down at Alex, and the angel shook her head. "Why?"

"Cause if anybody has answers, it's him. We're dealing with two vengeful spirits. Apparently Aunt Bunny had a bee in her bonnet as well."

Alex squinted, trying to unravel Dean's cryptic message. "You mean … you mean she's a ghost, too? Did you see her?" Her gaze flickered across the maid Olivia, who seemed to flinch away nervously. "That … I thought it takes ghosts a while before they're strong enough to manifest. Lance I get, but her?"

"But you think we're dealing with a husband and wife tag-team killer ghosts?" Sam added immediately, and Dean gave an unsure shrug.

"Well, gotta keep the marriage alive somehow," he joked darkly. "And the key she gave Bobby? It's to a hidden attic."

"What?" Alex shoved her hands into her pocket as Dean brandished the wooden cross for emphasis. "And … why would this Bunny person want Bobby to have a key to her attic? Was there anything up there?"

Once again, Dean shrugged. "Don't know why, but yeah. It gets weirder. I found Olivia and Colette inside."

Sam's brow furrowed. "Clown college Collete?"

"Yeah, but she ain't studying balloons no more." Dean's face darkened at the thought. "She's dead. The butler's the one who locked them in there. Now, I don't know why, but he's covering for the spooks. He's acting like their Renfield."

"He's … drinking blood?" The reference was lost on the angel, and she looked up at Sam for clarification. "I don't get it."

" _Dracula_." The exasperation in Dean's voice was clear. "He did the creep's dirty work. Point is we need to find him. You take upstairs. I'll stay down here. _Don't_ let her go too far, you hear?" He motioned between Alex and Sam, his finger ending up pointed at the angel as he added, "Don't do stupid things."

Alex stuck out her tongue as she followed Sam away from Dean and up the stairs. "Sam Winchester!" The voice of Detective Howard could be heard off in the distance, and the angel pushed ahead of Sam to take the lead.

"Don't get too far ahead," Sam warned as the angel rounded a corner.

"I'll be fine, slowpoke," she called back. "Don't listen to Dean." She let her grace slip out as she hurried ahead, but she made sure to keep Sam's footsteps within hearing distance. Unsure where she was going, she let the hallways guide her.

"Well, well, well." A voice in the distance behind her had her pausing, and the angel's lips set in a thin line as she recognized the seductive tone of Beverly LaCriox. "What do we have here? Whatcha doing snooping around these halls, hmm?" The beginning of Sam's stuttered reply fell into silence, and Alex rolled her eyes as she started back down the halls to help her friend. "Up to no good?" the older blonde was saying. "Why don't we get up to no good together? You know," she added, voice dropping into a pleased murmur, "they say women just get better with age. Like a fine wine or — or cheese."

"Uh, I, uh —" Sam's hazel eyes came into view, relief flashing through them at the sight of the angel. "I'm lactose intolerant, so …"

"I'm more like a steak." Alex sauntered up to the hunter, plastering a grin across her face. "Medium rare, so still plenty of pink." She saw Sam's cheeks flush, and she couldn't help but add with a wink, "Tender." With the Winchester thoroughly embarrassed, she turned to study Beverly. "Not so … dried out and overcooked."

"Okay." Sam grabbed her by the hand and pulled her down the hall, far away from the scowling woman. "You know, you shouldn't — you shouldn't provoke them."

"But it's so much fun." Alex pulled her hand free from Sam's, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. "She's still watching," she murmured. "I hate them; they're trying to get in your pants even after I've made it clear they should back off."

"They're used to getting what they want." Sam shrugged, and Alex brought her hand back down to her side. "I'll take care of them."

"Yeah, but this is more amusing for me." Alex stepped away with a grin. "You're so cute when you blush." She was rewarded by another rush of pink across his cheeks, and she jerked a thumb towards the hall. "Anyways. We should keep going before that detective finds you."

She led the way down the hall, this time keeping the Winchester within her sights. She let her grace spread back out, searching with hesitant intent, and the two of them fell silent as they continued their search.

Alex felt something different as they reached the back staircase, and she froze. "Death." She drew her grace back within her as she looked up at Sam. "Someone's died recently. This way." She turned the hall and jumped down the stairs, not caring who heard her footsteps. She could hear the Winchester following close behind, his concern growing, and she slid to a stop inside of the kitchen.

Blood stained the floor, the pool glistening in the moonlight of the darkened room, and the angel immediately dropped down into a wary crouch as she approached. Sam passed her, leaning over the counter to see the body, and Alex peered around it to find Phillip, the butler, laying face down, a kitchen knife embedded in his back.

"Great." Alex stood up as Sam pulled out his phone, and she curled her lip as she studied the mess. "Ghosts don't normally stab, and I …" She hesitated, flicking her grace through the air, immediately pulling it back in when she heard the glass window crack under the rush of energy. "I don't feel any EMF, so … who killed him?"

Sam didn't respond until he had sent his message. "I don't know. Maybe Dean will have found something." He lowered his phone, lips pursed. "We should get out of sight — before Detective Howard comes by."

He hurried out of the room, and Alex followed, casting one last wary glance behind her. Sam's phone rang, and the Winchester jumped to answer it. "Dean." Alex could hear Dean's answer, sharp with concern, and the angel paused as surprise lined Sam's voice. "What?"

"It's no ghost." Alex heard a door slam shut from Dean's end of the line. "It's a shapeshifter. Where are you two?"

"We — we're in the kitchen. Someone stabbed the butler."

"I can be there in a minute. Stay put." The phone clicked as Dean hung up, and Alex watched as Sam shoved his phone back into his pocket with a shake of his head.

It wasn't long before Dean's hurried footsteps could be head down the hallway, and a few seconds later, the Winchester rushed into view. His green eyes flickered across them, concern darking the irises, and Alex nodded towards the kitchen where Phillip's body still lay. "Why are you thinking shifter?"

"Probably because I was just talking to the butler. Before he threw me into the wall and shed his skin." Dean brushed past her to see the body, and Alex hesitated, choosing to stay outside the door in case anyone came down the hall.

"So, the shifter's getting its jollies by impersonating dead people." Sam followed after his brother, leaving the angel all alone.

"Yeah," she heard Dean agree. "First Bunny, then Lance, now Phillip. Guess we can rule out 'the butler did it.' "

"And the creep just shed so now it could be anybody." Sam's voice grew louder as the two hunters made their way back into the hall, and Alex stepped aside to let them through. "Even one of you."

"Sounds like we need to find some silver —" The angel jumped in surprise as footsteps approached, and she turned to see the maid Olivia standing in the other entrance to the kitchen, her eyes stretched wide in horror. "Shit."

"Hey." Dean flicked on the kitchen lights and stepped in, drawing an anguished gasp from the woman. "He was like that when we found him."

"W-Who did this?"

"We don't know yet, okay?" Sam moved to stand next to his brother, hands outstretched to sooth the panicked woman. "Now, listen. Calm down. I know you think he was working with ghosts, but there's something way worse going on here."

"Worse than …" The maid's voice trembled, and she trailed off. "What's going on?" She looked between the two Winchesters, and Alex folded her arms, curious as to how much the brothers were going to reveal.

"If you want to help, then help." Dean's words were tight, and the maid's eyes widened even more as she looked between the three of them. "Can you do that?"

"We need silver," Alex added. "Purest that you have. It — it can be anything, but preferably something sharp like, like a knife or some silverware."

"I-I …" Olivia hurried past them further into the kitchen, and the angel stepped aside to let her through. "Why do you need the silverware?" she asked shakily as she pulled free a wooden case, and she opened it up with trembling hands.

"For protection." Sam stepped forward to pull out three knives, and he handed two to Dean, who added, "Trust us; there's a method to our madness," when the maid hesitated.

"Can you — uh — hold this?" Sam handed one of the knives to Olivia while Dean gave Alex her own.

The angel twisted it in her hands, grace simmering beneath her skin as it brushed against the metal, and she frowned. "This isn't silver." She looked up at the brothers' noises of surprise. "I-I don't know what exactly it is, but it doesn't feel like silver."

"H-How do you know?" The maid's voice drew Alex's attention onto her, and against her will, the angel's grace slipped out.

 _Not human_. Her grace recoiled in surprise, and Alex dropped her gaze to keep the others from noticing that she had paled. "Never mind." She turned the butter knife over in her hands. "I-I just had a feeling, but I guess I was wrong. Thank you."

She ducked her head and hurried out of the room, twisting her grace deep inside of her to keep it still. She heard Sam and Dean followed; she could feel their frowns on her back, but she didn't stop until they had put several yards between them and the shifter. "What the hell was that about?"

"Olivia's the shifter." Alex shivered as her grace remembered the tainted flesh. She glanced over her shoulder to see Dean's frown deepen, and she added, "These knives aren't silver, and _you_ told me not to use my grace. The best thing I could do was get us out of there." She came to a stop and turned to face the brothers. "We should gather everyone else up before we try and find some real weapons."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and eventually Dean nodded. "You two sweep the bottom floor. I'll get everyone that's upstairs down here."

He turned around and hurried away, and Alex fell in step beside Sam as they continued down the hall. "Wait, wait, wait." The angel heard female voices in the distance, and she curled her lips in disgust as she recognized them. "Go back. He owned an island." Beverley's voice was too low to make out words, but Heddy's response was sharp. "Who cares if he's ugly if you're drinking Mai Tai's in the lap of luxury?"

"Cougars two o'clock." Alex slipped onto the other side of Sam. "Should we leave them and keep going …?"

"What? No." Sam stepped through the doorway, and Alex leaned up against the frame as her gaze swept across the two old blondes seated on the white couch. "Hey, uh, hey, ladies." The Winchester cleared his throat as he stepped forward, blocking Alex's line of sight. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to find Beverly a man." Heddy's voice was contemptuous, and Alex snorted in amusement as her cousin added, "I've resorted to fishing online because the _live_ ones won't bite."

"The _live_ one's not yours to fish for." Alex circled around Sam to stand at his side, arms crossed as she narrowed her eyes. "Now come on, get up. We're moving to a different room."

Contempt turned to confusion, and the two women exchanged quick looks. "Moving?" Heddy finally repeated. "What do you mean?"

"I mean Phillip's dead, too, so we're going someplace safe." She clapped her hands together, trying to speed them up. "Chop, chop, let's go."

"Hey." Sam laid a hand on her shoulder, and the angel's eyes flashed blue before she reigned her grace back in. "Let's maybe try some tact, alright?"

"They want my tact they better damn well earn it." Alex shoved her hands into her pockets as she scoffed, eyes flickering over to the couch to find that neither had moved, both stiff with shock at the blunt delivery of her news. "Never mind, let's — let's just leave them for dead. If they think they can push you—"

"Alex." Sam's hand tightened as his voice grew sharp. "We're not married, alright? Remember? Let it go."

"Yeah, obviously, but you're not into getting laid and I'm sure as hell not getting laid anytime in the foreseeable future, so I thought we should stick together — watch each other's backs." Alex twisted the ring on her finger with the pad of her thumb as she scoffed again. "Just — we're supposed to herding them, not —"

A scream broke off the angel's rambling, whose grey eyes stretched wide in surprise. Sam rushed out of the room, and with one last glance towards Heddy and Beverly, Alex followed, grace spilling out ahead of her to clear the way. She could hear Dean jumping down the stairs as he approached, joining the hall ahead of them as he rushed towards the source.

Olivia stood in the doorway to one of the bathrooms, one hand pointed inwards as the other covered her face in a horrified gasp. She stepped out of the way as Dean reached her, gasping for air as she tried to form words that simply wouldn't come.

"Well, we got a floater." Alex slid to a stop next to Dean as the hunter spoke, and a thin grimace settled over her face at the sight of Detective Howards face down in the toilet bowl. "Yeah, he's a goner," Dean added when Sam muttered out his concern, and Alex shifted further into the small tiled room to let the hunters enter as well.

"Drowned in a toilet?' Heddy's voice surprised the angel, and she looked up to find all four LaCrioxs crowded in the doorway. "How filthy."

"What kind of monster would do such a thing?" Beverly added, looking over at Oliva, and the maid offered up a shaky shrug.

"D-Don't look at me," she pleaded. "I was just trying to pee."

"Great." Dean swiped a hand through his hair as he looked down at Alex. "This one's on you, okay? You had the chance to stop her, and you let it go out of what — spite?"

"You told me not to use my grace, so I didn't use my grace. And I didn't see you having anything silver on you, so you're welcome I didn't get you killed!" The angel spun around to glare up at the hunter. "You're the one who benched me, Winchester, and all I did was follow orders."

"Hey, hey." Sam pressed himself in between the two of them. "Neither of this is your fault. He's been dead a while," he told his brother. "Corpse is cold. This didn't just happen in the past few minutes."

"So she killed him before Phillip," Dean concluded with a nod, and Alex turned to meet Olivia's eyes.

"Can I kill her now?" she asked, taking a step towards the maid, grace twisting inside her when the shifter backed away. "I'll be honest, it's definitely been way too long since I've killed anything."

To her surprise, Dash moved in front of her, a hand out to keep the angel back. "Oh, no. The three of you aren't going anywhere!"

"Trust me. I don't think you quite know what's going on here." Alex knocked his hand away unceremoniously. "You see, _she's_ a monster. _She's_ killed four people, three of which she offed today, and for that _I'm_ going to kill her."

"Olivia's been in the family for years." Dash scoffed at the angel's ridiculous words. "And trust you? Uh, we don't even _know_ you. Look, sweetheart, I'm trying to be objective here, bu we've had countless family functions before, and even though we wanted to kill each other, we never did."

"Dash is right," Heddy slowly added. "Our get-togethers never ended in murder. The only thing different this time around is you."

"And her." Alex pointed her finger back towards Oliva, who shied away with tearfilled eyes. "She's not Olivia. She's a shapeshifter who —"

Dash lunged forward, and Alex jumped away just as the man's hand wrapped around the detective's gun that lay on the floor. The hammer clicked as it was cocked, and the dark-haired man pointed the barrel in their direction. "You three! Let's go." He backed out of the room, motioning for them to follow, and Alex hesitantly did so.

"Want me to take him?" she murmured up to the brothers, warily eyeing the shifter before them. "I don't want to get shot — again — but if you need me to …"

"Don't even think about it!" Dash's voice was sharp with command. "I … hunt pheasant." With a wave of the gun, he motioned them into the next room. "Sit tight until the cops get here."

"You don't want to do this." Dean's hands were lifted up in a gesture of compliance, and Alex reluctantly followed him into the room with a curled lip. "We are your best shot at making it out of here alive."

"We're not the bad guys, Dash," Sam quickly added.

"Oh, I beg to differ." The younger LaCroix motioned to the three with the barrel of his gun. "You're wearing flannel." The door slammed shut as Alex looked down at her apparel, eyebrows knitting together in a moment of confusion. She heard the lock click into place, and the angel huffed as she turned to look up at the Winchesters.

"Well?" She crossed the room to brush her fingers across the lock, grace slipping out to feel the tightly-woven components. "I can get us out of here right now —"

"We don't have anything to defend ourselves." Dean shook his head. "Chances are that shifter's gonna jump us the moment we step outside."

"Then we see what's in here." Alex pushed her way between the brothers, eyes catching on the flickering of a screen. "What is this room? This …"

"Security cameras." Sam's voice echoed her confusion. "Hey." He waved his brother over, and Alex slipped in at his other side as Sam flipped through the screens. The lounge came into view, with all four LaCrioxs standing by the couch.

The flash of a gun's muzzle could be seen in the corner, and Dean cursed under his breath as Olivia stepped into view. "Dammit. Get us out of here."

"On it." Alex hurried over to the door, grace reaching into the lock and popping it open, and she heard the sound of a cabinet opening behind her.

"Alex." Sam looked back at his brother, who gave a small nod. "Gun safe." The metal door sprung open as Alex's grace flicked out towards it, and the Winchester wrenched it open and peered inside. "Here." He pulled out two handguns and quickly checked the magazine. "Lead."

"Alright. The two of you go after her. I'll make it out to the car and get some real ammo." Dean threw open the door and slipped into the hallway, and Alex accepted one of the pistols from Sam with a frown.

Sam led the way back out of the room, and the angel let her grace slide out to guide the way. She heard Dash arguing with the shifter, and she lengthened her stride to outpace Sam and reach the room first. "Hey!" She cocked her gun as she stepped through the doorway, and her stomach barely hit the ground in time as a bullet lodged itself into the doorway above her head. "Shit!"

"Stay here." Sam's command came as he rushed past her, and Alex looked up in time to see that his command was issued to the LaCrioxs. He disappeared from sight down the hall, and Alex pushed herself to her feet and hurried after him. She heard the shifter in the kitchen, and when Sam slowed, Alex pointed off down the hall towards the other entrance to the room; he nodded, and she slipped off towards the second door.

A shot echoed through the room, and the angel crouched down with a hiss, cocking her gun as she snuck forward. "You don't have a clear shot," she heard the shifter taunt.

"Neither do you," Sam retorted from behind the island, and Alex's grace flicked out to kill the lights before she slunk forward through the darkness.

"Killing you is the next best thing to killing Bobby Singer!" the shifter hissed from her hiding spot, and the angel stretched out her grace in an attempt to locate the monster.

"What's your beef with Bobby?" she called back as she came to rest against the same island as Sam, stretching a hand around the corner to touch the Winchester on the bicep to let him know she was there.

"For starters, he killed my father."

"Lance was a shifter?" Sam peered around the island, and his hazel eyes caught in the moonlight as he looked to stall.

"Lance wasn't my father." Olivia spat the words, and Alex crept around so she could peer further into the kitchen. "Mother had an affair with a shifter. She got pregnant, told Lance I was his. He bought it … until she brought me back from the hospital. My real dad was waiting. Lance put up a fight, but he was no match for a shifter. And just as my dad was about to take me …" The maid's voice grew scornful. "The hunter became the hunted."

Sam's word was barely a murmur. "Bobby."

"After Bobby killed my father, he came after me, but Mother pleaded with him to spare me. He agreed, under one condition …"

"That she keep you locked up," the Winchester finished.

"For my safety and the safety of others. Mother told the family she lost the baby. And she locked me in the attic. But she remained devoted to me until the very end — even got Bobby to promise to take care of me if anything happened to her."

"And you set all this up to _kill_ him?" Alex scoffed scornfully, and she heard the shifter hiss in anger somewhere across the room. "You should be grateful."

"For what? Keeping my locked up my whole life? If would have been kinder to _kill_ me."

"We can take care of that," Alex muttered, but her words were drowned out by Sam's own sentence. "Olivia, you don't have to do this. Being a monster is a choice."

"That choice was made for me a long time ago." Footsteps reverberated through her grace, careful and silent, and the angel tightened her grip on her weapon as she shifter spoke again. "Why haven't you taken a shot?" she asked before she fell silent, and after a second, she chuckled. "Oh. You don't have any silver bullets, do you?"

Her voice sounded directly behind the angel, and Alex spun around in surprise as a gunshot echoed through the air. The gun fell from her hands as the bullet tore through the shifter's chest, and Alex barely rolled away before Olivia collapsed onto the ground. Dean stood behind her, his form outlined by the hallway's light, and Alex rose to her feet as Dean stepped forward again, gun still cocked.

The weapon discharged again, and then once more, and Alex flinched away as the Winchester emptied seven more shots into the corpse. It jerked as the bullets entered the flesh, and Alex tore her gaze away to look up at Dean. "Think she's dead?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and Dean pulled back the slide to clear his weapon before he shoved it into the back of his jeans.

Rushed footsteps came from the hall, and the angel looked up to see Dash standing in the doorway. "We heard shots," he explained. "Lots of them — are you okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine." Dean nudged the corpse with his foot, disgust flashing across his face. "Her, not so much." The disdain lingered for a moment longer before he turned away. "Anyways. We should get going before any more of Detective Howard's friends decide to pay us a visit. You four going to be okay on your own? With this?"

Dash's eyes were trained on the half-concealed body of Oliva, and it took him a moment to regain his voice. "Yes," he finally agreed. "I … I'll call the police to come …" He trailed off, unsure what to say, and Alex followed Sam and Dean out of the kitchen as the LaCriox pulled out his cell phone.

The winding halls led them back to the front door, and as they neared it, Alex could hear Dash's voice as he hurried after them. "Yes, officer," he was saying into his phone, "yes, thank you very much. You can't miss it. Big house on the end of the street." He paused to listen as Alex stepped out into the night air, and he hung up with a rushed, "Alright, bye now. Guys?" The man pushed his way out onto the front step behind them, and the Winchesters paused. "Police are on their way," Dash announced. "What a mess. I … I owe you three an apology."

"Don't sweat it." Sam shook his head, shrugging in acceptance. "I mean, you were just protecting your family and … and there's nothing wrong with that."

"Oh, and, uh, here." Dean dug the wooden cross out of his pocket, taking two steps towards the man to hold it within Dash's reach. "You guys should keep it." Dash took it, curiously turning it over, and the Winchester explained, "It's a key to the attic."

The cross separated to reveal the iron key in Dash's hands, and the dark-hair man hummed in understanding. "Bobby must have really meant something to Aunt Bunny if she entrusted him with this," he murmured, and his blue eyes turned up onto Alex. "How can we repay you?"

"Just … forget that we were here, okay?"

Dash's eyes narrowed at Alex's words, confusion lining his voice. "But you saved our lives," he insisted. "I want everyone to know what heroes you —"

"Look, pal," Dean cut in, "the fact that we pulled your bacon out of the fire is nobody's business. Okay?" Dash didn't look convinced, and Dean frowned. "Okay? I'm serious. Put a pin in it — or we'll come back for your preppy ass."

His words struck their mark, and Dash reluctantly nodded, and Alex watched him move back into the mansion as Sam and Dean turned back to the Impala. She climbed into the backseat as the engine purred to life, and Sam cleared his throat as the door slammed shut. "Dean," he started slowly, "what was that all about back there?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean glanced over his shoulder as he backed the Impala out of its spot, and the engine revved as he accelerated down the winding driveway.

"I mean … all those extra shots after the shifter was already dead." Sam glanced back at Alex, searching for support, and the angel gave a half shrug, not sure how committed she should be to the conversation at hand.

"I don't know." Dean shrugged, his voice uninterested in his brother's concern. "Target practice?"

Sam's brow furrowed at the humor, and he snapped, "Come on, man. I'm serious. You sure it wasn't … I don't know, demon residue or something to do with the Mark, or —"

"No." Dean sharply shook his head. "No, none of that. Oh my God, Sam," he added when his brother once again started to protest. "It was my first kill since I've been back. You know, I got a little anxious. I wanted to make sure it was done right — plain and simple." He looked up in the rearview to meet Alex's frown, and his voice grew even sharper. "It's — why am I even explaining this to you?" He cranked up the music, drowning out any possible words, and the car lurched forward as it sped down the road.


	8. Girls, Girls, Girls

**January 26th, 2015**  
 **Fall River, Massechussets**

 **T** he quiet bustle of the diner was a constant, distant hum in the angel's ears as she stared down at the table, brow furrowed in concentration. Three coins lay in front of her, spread out across the polished wood, and their metal vibrated against her grace, the tingling growing the longer she stared. "Come on." Sam's voice snapped her from her thoughts, and Alex blinked at the distraction. "Just admit defeat."

"Shh." The angel lifted a finger to her mouth as her grey eyes flickered over to Sam's hands; his thumbs were pressed together at the tip, fingers splayed outwards, and her attention once again moved back to the coins. "I'm concentrating."

"It's penny football, not brain surgery," the Winchester persisted, once again tearing her attention away from the game before her. "Take your shot or give up."

Alex pursed her lips together, electing to ignore his jab as she brought her hand out. A flick of the fingers sent one of the coins sliding into another, and she grunted in disappointment as the they spun away from their target. "Just because it's easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for all of us," she muttered as Sam collected the change, and she leaned back as she pressed her hands together to form the goal.

Her eyes flickered over to Dean; his nose was buried in his phone, as it had been since they had arrived, and she frowned as a coin suddenly hit the back of her thumb. "Dammit." She swept the coins up together as Sam added another tally to the corner of the newspaper, but the arrival of their food had her quickly shoving the pennies aside. "Hey. Dean-o." Alex whacked the Winchester in the shoulder, jerking him out of his thoughts. "Food." She leaned back in her seat so her plate could be set down in front of her, licking her lips at the sight of the steak.

She waited until the waiter had walked away before she picked up her knife, reflexively twisting it in her fingers before she cut into her lunch. "Not bad." She watched as Dean speared a fry with a fork, barely grunting out a sound of acknowledgement as he typed something into his phone. With a shake of her head, she turned to Sam. "Anything in the paper?"

"Maybe. It's hard to say." The Winchester paused to chew his food as he looked down at the newspaper. "Uh, there's been some cattle deaths a few towns over." He looked up at his brother. "A demon possibility or something?"

"No." Dean didn't look as he pointed in the general direction of the paper. "It says right there. It's probably just cause of the drought."

The newspaper crinkled as Sam folded it back up, a frown on his face. "So … what are we doing here?"

"Uh, reason's right there on your plate." Dean finally put down his phone, and he motioned between their steaks. "Lizardo's porterhouse — U.S.D.A. prime." His phone buzzed twice in quick succession, but the Winchester ignored it. "It's the only place between Connecticut and the bunker you can get a decent steak under ten bucks."

"We're … in Massachusetts." Alex looked up at Sam, searching for support to her statement before she turned back to Dean. "We went in the opposite direction from the bunker." She pointed to the pennies at her side, arranging them into a line. "Like, this is Connecticut," she said, pointing to the middle penny. "This one's Kansas, and this one's where we are — totally not on the way—"

Dean's phone chimed again, and Sam tipped his head as his brother hurried to answer it. "Dude, you are blowing up. Who is that?"

"Ah, it's just, uh, you know … these alert thingies," Dean lied, and Alex cocked an eyebrow as he quickly typed a reply.

"For what?" she pressed.

"You know, monster … stuff." The Winchester shrugged as he put his phone back onto the table, and his face twisted in indignation when Sam leaned forward and snatched it up. "Hey, hey!" He tried to lean forward, fingers grasping at thin air as Sam held it out of reach. "Uh-uh. Give it back."

"What?" Sam pressed the phone against his chest, batting Dean's hands away. "Why?"

"Because privacy … and stuff." Dean crossed his arms, lips pressed tightly together, and Sam's smirk grew.

"Oh, privacy." He lifted the phone up so he could see, and Alex's curiosity heightened tenfold as his eyes widened in disbelief. "You're on a dating app?"

"What? Let me see." Alex jumped up from her chair to stand behind Sam, leaning down over his shoulder to see the phone's screen. Her grey eyes flickered over to Dean, slouched grumpily in his chair, before they dropped back onto the app. She recognized the picture immediately; she had taken it only a week prior, and she grinned as Sam scrolled down through the profile.

"It's not funny," Dean snapped. "And you know what? Don't knock it until you try it."

"Nice screen name, Dean." Sam's voice dropped low, a cheap imitation of Dean's sultry inflection. "Impala67."

Alex snickered, and Dean leaned forward, silverware clattering as he bumped the table. "All right, give it back." Sam once again pressed it into his chest, and the Winchester scowled. "Come on."

"Shaylene, huh?" Sam scrolled down through his conversations, and hazel eyes widened. "Dean, there are like a million messages here."

The grimace faded into a smug grin. "Yeah, uh, check out her pic."

The picture of a dark-haired woman appeared, a one-size-too-small blue dress carefully buttoned to accentuate her breasts, and Alex lifted an eyebrow as she glanced over at Dean, unsurprised by the complacent smirk. "Uh … oh, wow. Okay." Sam shrugged, and Alex's fingers drummed on his shoulder. "Um, okay," he relented, "she's hot. But …"

"But what?"

"But she seems uh … kind of … available. Like, too available." Sam returned to scrolling through the messages as Alex hummed in agreement, and he thumbed upwards, searching for a good example. " 'Oh, baby, whatever you want. I'm burning up just thinking about you.' " He read the message aloud, making sure to exaggerate the seductive tone, and Alex pulled an equally exaggerated face of disgust.

Dean's grin only widened. "They get raunchier," he promised.

"I think you're missing the point," Alex retorted, while Sam added, "I-I see that, but … it's like a — like a Penthouse letter."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Is that bad?"

"Maybe more like too good to be true." Alex returned to her seat, and Sam put Dean's phone back onto the table so his brother could reach it. "Like, how do you know Shaylene is even Shaylene?"

Dean's eyes narrowed in offense. "I'm sorry, is it — is it so hard to believe that an attractive, red-blooded American female could be interested in someone like me?"

Alex shrugged, electing not to answer, and Sam took over the explanation. "We're just saying there's no guarantee," he insisted. "I mean, for all you know, it could be some … Canadian trucker named Bruce."

Dean's phone dinged again, and the Winchester grinned at the message it held. He turned in his seat, and Alex followed his gaze to find the woman from the picture standing in the doorway. Her eyes swept through the restaurant, and Dean shot her a small wave. "That look like a Bruce to you?" He smirked, and Alex felt her grin falter.

"We — we detoured eight hours so you could get laid?" Sam's eyes narrowed at the realization, and when Dean rose to feet, his face darkened in displeasure.

"Yeah. Yeah. Oh, and, uh, you know what? Lunch is on me." He dug a handful of bills out of his wallet and tossed them onto his empty plate. "And, uh … don't wait up." He walked away, and Alex scowled after him.

"Arrogant asshole," she muttered, turning away as Dean wrapped his arm around the woman's waist. "I was hoping she'd be a man." She kicked Sam under the table before she too stood up. "Uh, anyways, looks like you'll be on your own for the afternoon."

"Wait, what?" Sam looked up from his half-empty plate, and Alex chuckled.

"In case you were wondering why _I_ never protested this detour en route, it's because Cas happens to be in town, too, and it's been a _very_ long time since I've seen my mate." She neatly arranged the dollar bills Dean had haphazardly thrown at them, stacking them in front of Sam before she ruffled his shaggy hair. "So, uh, like Dean, said, don't wait up."

...

 **T** he thin motel carpet crunched beneath her boots as Alex made her way down the hall, eyes glued on her phone as she reread the number. Room 316. It should be on this floor, somewhere. Her grace snuck out, searching for someone of her own kind, and the lights above her head flickered in response. Something up ahead twitched through the air, and Alex drew her grace back in as she lengthened her stride to reach the far door.

This was the one. The angel shoved her phone into her pocket as she rapped twice on the door before she let her grace unlock it. "Hey." She stepped into the room, and her lips widened into a smile at the sight of Castiel.

The seraph was dressed in his typical wear, trench coat hanging loosely on his shoulders, and blue eyes sparkled as he turned to face her. "Alex." His voice was a low rumble, almost a purr, and Alex drew her grace in as his stretched out. The smile faded, and Castiel stepped close. "Your grace …"

"Crowley." Alex tucked it deep inside, trying to keep it out of his reach, and she dropped her gaze to the ground. "I'm sorry."

"I'm glad you're okay." Arms enveloped her, holding her close, and Alex's eyes fell shut as she leaned into his warm touch. "I'm sorry." His hand came up, cupping her cheek and tilting her head so he could look her in the eye. "It's been too long since I've seen you last. I …"

"You've been busy." Alex pulled free from his hold and sank down onto the bed, shrugging off her jacket and folding her legs under her as she smiled up at him. "I'm just glad you're here now. Come 'ere."

Castiel sank down next to her, and Alex leaned over to kiss his lips. Her fingers curled through his hair, holding him close, and she grunted in surprise when hands at her hips suddenly pulled her into his lap.

The bathroom door opened, and Alex straightened up at the sight of Hannah, clothless from the waist up. Their eyes met, surprised evident on both their faces, and Alex felt her fingers tighten in Castiel's jacket. "Okay, so, I am definitely not okay with that."

"I didn't know you were in town." Hannah made no move to cover herself up until Castiel awkwardly cleared his throat. Her blue eyes dropped down to her naked torso, and after a second, realization lit up her face. "Oh." She crossed the room to where her shirt and blouse lay on the floor, and Alex turned her head.

"Yup, back in town. And you're not wearing a shirt." Her fingers once again tightened in Castiel's coat, this time purposefully digging into his skin to show her displeasure.

Castiel's own thumbs rubbed small circled into her hips, trying to appease his mate. "Hannah was just showering," he promised, and Alex's nostrils flared as she sniffed the air, trying to determine if there was something Castiel wasn't mentioning, but the only thing she smelled was the soap from the humid bathroom.

She glanced back to see that Hannah was buttoning up her blouse, and her gaze slipped past to the far wall. A map of the states hung there, pins holding string that created a meshwork of trails, and the angel frowned. "You've been working."

She stood up, ignoring how Castiel tried to pull her back as she looked at the many mug shots that surrounded the map. "We've been able to locate many rogue angels." Her mate wrapped his arms around her waist, and Alex leaned back into his chest as she studied the faces.

"Isaac came back willingly," Hannah added, coming up to stand at their side. "He didn't even resist. There are still some angels down here, but the higher-profile rogues are back."

"We'll find them all," Castiel promised. "That's the mission."

His fingers toyed mindlessly with the hem of Alex's shirt as he spoke, and the young angel hummed in acknowledgement, reluctantly allowing the change in conversation. "How are you identifying them?"

"We're keeping an eye on the news. Any signs of miracles, strange healings, deaths." The seraph pressed a lingering kiss on the top of her head as he fell silent in thought. "We're heading down to Tennessee later today. The local papers say there's a man that's been working miracles in his Parish."

"Could be a figure of speech," Alex offered, and she felt Castiel shrug against her.

"Perhaps," he conceded. "But it's the best lead that we have, and until we find something stronger elsewhere, we'll have to go check it out." His grip on her tightened. "You could come with us."

Alex leaned back into him, suppressing a deep sigh. "I wish I could. But there's things I've got to do here. A-And between Dean and Crowley …" Alex reluctantly shook her head. "Plus the Winchesters promised me sparring practice to get my kickassery back." She sighed again, this time lowering her voice before she spoke. "Have you had any luck locating our grace?"

"Not yet." From the corner of her eye, Alex watched as Castiel glanced over at Hannah. "I don't …"

"Metatron claims he knows where your grace is, but Castiel has refused to listen." Hannah interrupted him with a dark frown, and Alex watched as Castiel's lips pursed together. However, the angel didn't push the subject any further. "We should hit the road," Hannah decided. "You two can bring our things out to the car. I'll check us out."

Alex's phone dinged, and she looked down to see a text from Sam. _Shaylene's a hooker. Working for a demon selling souls. Meet us at Astor Motel._

Alex chuckled, and she quickly typed in a reply. _Called it. I'll be there in a bit. Call if you need help asap._ "Alright, what are we bringing down?" she asked, shoving her phone back into her pocket. "Because I probably have about twenty minutes before the Winchesters come looking."

Castiel slipped out from behind her and starting gathering up the photos, and Alex watched as Hannah moved to help him, frowning at how the two angels moved in tandem. The pictures fit easily into a small cardboard box, pins and strings tucked in alongside, and not long after, the map was folded on top. Castiel secured the lid, and Alex held open the door as he led the way into the hall.

The third floor of the hotel was as dead as it had been when Alex had entered, but the lobby was now bustling as families hurried to move their things into their new rooms. Alex sidestepped a ten year old, eyes narrowed as the child didn't even look up from his phone; she opened her mouth to comment to her mate, but Castiel was already past the front desk. "Get in the car," she heard Hannah tell him. "I'll check us out."

Castiel nodded, and Alex slipped through the crowd to follow. "Hey." Once outside, she broke into a jog to catch up, and the seraph politely paused until she was at his side. "So, uh, Hannah's big on business, huh? Never a moment's rest."

"Our job is to locate the angels that have refused to return to heaven." Castiel stopped by his gold Lincoln Continental, balancing the box on one hip as he opened up the trunk. "With no need to eat or sleep, there's no reason for us to delay." He put the box inside and then turned to face Alex, hesitation in his eyes. "Are you sure you won't come with us? I don't know when our paths will cross again."

"Trust me, I wish I could." Alex shoved her hands into her pockets as she gave a half-hearted shrug. "But it's like I said. Crowley still has me on a leash, and Dean still has the Mark."

"And you've found no way of persuading Crowley to break the contract."

"You kidding?" Alex scoffed. "He acts like I'm the best investment he's had in years. I don't know what it would take for him to just give it up." Her grace slammed the trunk closed, and her eyes turned towards the hotel doors as she waited for Hannah to arrive. "So, you and Hannah …"

Arms pulled her close, and the angel smiled at the warmth that enveloped her. "You have no reason to be jealous." Castiel's voice was up against her ear, his breath stirring her blonde hair. "You are _Enaaish_. She is not."

"I'm your mate," Alex affirmed, and the seraph hummed in agreement. "I wish I could be there with you. Being apart … it's not right."

"It's not." Lips brushed across the back of her neck, fingers brushing her hair out of the way. "And I'm going to fix this."

"I know you are." Alex's grace stretched forward, wanting to curl inside of him, but she pulled back away at the foreign grace that resided in his chest. "If anyone is capable of saving me, it's you." She felt Castiel relax against her, lulled by her words, and after a moment or two, she added, "I wonder what's taking Hannah so long. It doesn't take much to check out."

The seraph stiffened, drawing away, and Alex fell in step at his side as he hurried back to the hotel. The lobby, while still full, was missing the brunette angel. "Hannah?" Castiel's hand closed around hers as he wove through the crowd, pausing only beside the staircase. "Alex. Take the other end. If neither of us find her, we'll meet in the middle."

"Yeah, of course." Alex broke into a sprint down the hallway, grace stretching upwards in search of the dark-haired angel. She wound up the far flight of stairs, stopping on the third floor where their room had been as she started her search.

She couldn't see Castiel, but the stretch of her grace towards their old room found both his and Hannah's grace. There was someone else, a human soul, and Alex reached back to draw her weapon as she crept towards the open door. "Castiel." Hannah's voice could be heard through the half-opened door, slow and intentional. "This is Joe … my husband."

Alex stopped, head tipping quizzically, and her confusion was echoed by Castiel's vocal, "Oh?" She heard a man cleared his throat, and when Joe spoke, his anger was clear. "Who is this guy?"

"He … uh …" Hannah seemed at a loss for words, and the bed creaked as Joe stood up.

"You're saying that you're … together?"

"What?" Alex could imagine Hannah squinting as she wrapped her head around the man's words. "Uh ... yes. I left you," she began, and her words sped up as the lie to form. "For him. He's the reason."

"No. No, I don't believe it." Joe's voice grew sharp, and Alex crept forward until she could see the inside of the room through the crack in the door. "This guy? No, there's something —" The man's eyes were stretched wide. "Caroline, you're not that kind of person, okay? You wouldn't do that. You _couldn't_ do that."

In response, Hannah kissed Castiel. Alex's fingers tightened around her weapon, unable to tear her eyes away as the kiss deepened, and she curled her toes to keep herself from rushing in and killing the angel right then and there. Unlike her, Joe's face was one of devastation, not jealousy, and when Hannah finally did pull away, she dropped her gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry." She reached down to take Castiel's hand. "Let's go."

The two stepped out of the room, closing the door to leave Joe alone in his misery, and the moment that it clicked shut, Alex was on her feet. Her fist flashed out, connecting with Hannah's jaw, and the angel stumbled back in surprise. "New rule. You kiss my mate, you get punched."

Hannah scowled in surprise, rubbing her jaw, and Alex smirked to find that Castiel chose not to rebuke her rash actions. "I'm sorry." Hannah straightened, adjusting her blouse as she turned back to face Alex, her face as stolid and diplomatic as ever. "But I needed to give Joe a reason. He's my vessel's husband," she explained, and Alex scoffed.

"I get it," she reluctantly agreed, "but there's no way in hell I'm okay with it." She felt her phone buzz in her pocket, and her jaw clenched as she looked up at Castiel.

The seraph took her hand in his. "I'll meet you by the car," he promised Hannah, and with a nod, the angel walked away. His hand tightened against hers as he led her in the opposite direction, and Alex childishly glared over her shoulder to catch a glance of Hannah one last time. "I'm sorry you had to see it."

"I watched you kiss her back." Alex tore her hand free from her mate's, and she tucked her weapon back into her jeans, muttering a sullen, "I hate her." Her phone buzzed again, and Alex looked down at the messages they held. _Girl definitely worked for demon. Raul's Girls, Elm Street. Get here asap._

"I need to go." Alex shoved her phone back into her pocket. "I — the Winchesters need me with a case."

"I understand." Castiel's face fell, and he reached down to take her hand. "I'll see you soon," he promised quietly. "I'll make time to come see you." His head dipped, lips pressing against hers, and Alex curled her hand around his neck to keep him close.

"Make sure that you do," she murmured. "I love you." Her phone rang, the high-pitched, dainty bells the ringtone for only one of her contacts, and Alex drew away with a scowl. "And that'd Crowley."

She turned away, pressing her phone up against her ear. "Hey. What do you want?"

"Now, now. That's no way to speak to your King." The demon's mocking deride had the angel grinding her teeth, but she kept her lips tight until he spoke again. "I have a little puzzle for you to solve."

"You've got five minutes." Alex pulled open the door to the stairwell, grace flicking in annoyance as she glanced back to see that Castiel was already long gone. "Not a second more, though. I'm on my way to meet up with the Winchesters."

Crowley merely chuckled at her passive-aggressive tone. "Fall River, Massachusetts. One of my men was struck down by the untimely arrival of a witch."

The angel's eyebrows lifted at the name of the town. "Well, if his name was Raul, I'm afraid I'm siding with the witch." She scoffed dryly. "Really, Crowley? Prostitutes? Even for you, that's low."

"So you've heard of him." The demon hummed curiously at the realization. "And if it's any consolation, this little scheme was run behind my back. I'm _evil_ ," he reminded, "but the sex trade — that's just tacky."

"Okay, then how'd you hear about it?" Alex pushed her way out of the hotel and started off down the street, eyes scanning the parking lot to try and catch sight of the Lincoln Continental, but the car was nowhere in sight. "Cause the way I see it, that couldn't have happened too long ago."

"Ten minutes, thereabouts," Crowley confirmed. "One of the scum dragged into Raul's little stunt fled the scene before the witch got around to him. He told me everything." The hint of a snarl in his voice left no doubt in Alex's mind to the snitch's fate.

She turned the corner, eyes flicking up towards the street sign above her head. "Okay, so what do you want from me? Cause if you ask me, it sounds like that witch did us all a favor."

"Perhaps. But a blatant act of aggression like that doesn't go without retaliation. And any witch that knows how to kill a demon is not one I want walking free." Alex heard the King of Hell rise to his feet. "It sounds like you and those two flea-bitten mongrels are already in town, so why don't you get them to stop chasing their tails and get after that witch."

"I'll see what I can do." Without waiting for dismissal, Alex hung up. The Impala lay ahead of her, pressed up against the curb, and the angel's eyes narrowed as she searched the streets for the location Sam had spoken about in his text.

Her gaze found the brick building across the street, the sleazy neon sign advertising its trade, and she crossed the empty road as her grace probed for an open door. "Hello?" She pushed her way in through the back, following the feel of the Winchesters into the main room.

"Welcome back." Dean stood behind a bar, halfway through pouring himself a drink, and Sam was kneeling down on the ground beside two bodies. "How's Cas?"

"Alive. With Hannah." If either brother heard the jealousy in her voice, they didn't comment on it, and Alex squatted down next to Sam. "So what's going on here?"

"Uh, from the looks of it … and the smell of it … this is demon." Sam pointed at the thick, black, sulphurous ooze that surrounded the nearest corpse's head, clogging their nose and mouth. "I — I think this is Raul."

"That would make sense." Alex dug a pen out of her coat pocket and poked at the charcoal slime. "Which means that," she added, pointing to the second body, "is our snitch."

"Snitch?" Dean's glass clinked against the counter as he set it down. "What do you mean?"

"Crowley called me. He's not pleased his demon was killed, even if he didn't authorize this little outpost." Alex rolled Raul over, fingers closing around a small black pouch with white symbols on the front. "Witch." She tossed the hexbag to Sam as she rose back to her feet. "One that I'm gonna have to track down, with or without you."

The Winchesters exchanged looks, Dean's scowl evident, but when Sam gave a faint nod, he sighed. "Course we're with you. A witch is a witch, demon killer or not." He polished off his drink and stepped out from behind the bar. "Alright, let's go back to the motel and see what we can find about uh … demon killing spells." The stutter in his words revealed his hesitation at their task, but his face held nothing but determination. "Awesome."

...

 **T** he motel bed creaked as Alex spread out across it, resting her head on Sam's calf as she stretched for his fast food bag — thinking food, Dean had called it. "Hey. You haven't eaten, like, any of your cheese curds." Alex pulled the bag closer, licking her lips as she popped one into her mouth.

Sam frowned, and he pushed the bag into Alex's chest with the side of his foot. "You really shouldn't eat that," he lectured. "I-I mean, the order's called 'triple threat' for a reason."

"Hey, I can't legally die for another year," the angel quipped. "And if an order of onion rings, cheese curds, and fries is gonna do me in, so be it. Sure beats getting ripped apart by hell puppies." She winked at the hunter, trying to lighten her words, and she dug out another cheese curd as she pulled her laptop close."Anyways. Either of you find anything?"

"Nothing yet." Dean looked up from where he sat at the small wooden table, the remains of his own Triple Threat scattered in front of him. "Sam?"

"Maybe." Sam's cryptic answer was followed by silence, and when no further explanation came, Alex shrugged.

"Hey," she began. "So, uh, tell me more about Shaylene, huh?" She shut her laptop so she could look Dean square in the eye, and she heard Sam huff in amusement from behind her.

"What do you want to hear, huh?" Dean shrugged defensively, his green eyes staying trained on his screen. "She offered me sex for my soul. Thought she was a demon, turns out she was just being pimped out by one."

"That sucks. Bet your dick's disappointed." Alex gestured off towards the Winchester suggestively, winking to show her jest, and Dean scowled.

"Not to be that guy, but this is all coming from a girl who's reading Supernatural fanfiction," he retorted, and Alex slammed her laptop shut in surprise as she looked back at him.

"I —" Alex pursed her lips, and she turned on the bed so the Winchester couldn't see her screen. "I'm not _reading_ it, okay? I'm just seeing what other people have written. And so what?" she added, sticking out her tongue. "Maybe it's nice to see that there are people out there that appreciate me, however small that group may be."

"What, you're going to look me in the eye and tell me you weren't reading porn?"

A cheese curd flew through the air, hitting Dean right in the left eye, and Alex crossed her arms. "You're disgusting," she snapped. "And come on — you're gonna tell me you've never been curious about what people are saying about you?"

Dean scoffed. "Most of it is about me and Sam fucking. Not really my cup of tea."

Alex shrugged, and she reopened her laptop. "So? There's a ton about me and Sam — almost as much as with you and him." She flashed him a grin, adding, "You just gotta push through that, man. Push through the pain."

"Yeah, that — that's nowhere near the same thing —"

"Hey, uh, guys, can we not argue about this?" Sam awkwardly cleared his throat, his legs crossing and uncrossing, and Alex patted his kneecap in a gesture of pseudo-consolance.

"Well, we are a way cuter couple than you and Dean," she teased. "Even you have to admit that. I ship it," she added over to Dean.

"So, uh, anyways, here we go." The Winchester sat up straighter on the bed, clearing his throat to gather their attention. "Um, so it looks like in the eighteenth century, there were accounts of demons killed by witchcraft. Apparently they were vanquished by a spell called _defigere et depurgare_ which is Latin for 'to bind and purge.' "

"You think that's the same kind of spell that took out Raul?" Dean asked, and he lowered the top of his laptop curiously.

"Sounds like it. But from what I can tell, the spell hasn't been used in over three hundred years. And it was only ever known by one person, the witch who created it. Rowena."

"Never heard of her." Alex looked between the two brothers with a firm shake of her head. "Either she's still alive and doing her thing, which would make her — what, like a gazillion years old — or someone else found the spell and decided to carry on her dirty work."

Dean's phone buzzed, and the Winchester paused, mouth half open in a response. "Hey, we got a problem." He flashed the screen towards them, and Alex narrowed her eyes, trying to read the blurred words before he turned it back around. "Guy's head exploded at, uh, Bistro des Moules about five minutes ago." He slammed his laptop shut and pushed himself to his feet. "That sound witchy to you?"

...

 **I** t did, in fact, sound witchy, Alex mused as her eyes traced the floor, following the red misting of blood across the tiles to the still-wet pool where a body had once lay. She tugged on the sleeve of her white blouse as she turned her attention to the rest of the restaurant, now eerily vacant. "So what exactly happened here?" She could hear Dean's voice in the next room, his voice low in an authoritative tone as he interviewed the head chef, and the angel turned away and followed the sound of his voice.

"It started out like every other day." The chef's eyes flickered over to Alex as she entered, pausing a moment before turning back to Dean. "But middle of my shift, there's Marty falling down, clutching his head, stroking out right there on the floor, sweating, turning red, like … like …" The chef hesitated, mouth half-open as he sought for the right words.

"Like his brains were boiling?" Dean guessed, and the man nodded reluctantly. "Was there anything else unusual?"

The chef scoffed. "More unusual than our head waiter dropping dead in front of me?"

"Before that."

"I don't know." The man shook his head defeatedly. "I-I mean, I thought getting two hookers in here was pretty damn unusual, but that was before Marty keeled over."

"Hookers?" Alex repeated, and she looked sharply up at Dean. "What do you mean by that? Where they alone?"

"Well, based on what they were wearing, yeah, pretty sure they were hookers." The man's lips turned down slightly, confused by her sudden and intense interest. "And no. They came in with a lady. Red hair. We have a certain dress code around here," he explained. "I don't know why Marty insisted we serve them."

Alex hummed curiously, and Dean dipped his head. "Thank you for your time." His hand brushed across her forearm, a silent gesture for her to follow, and Alex obliged. She and Dean exited the restaurant, and the angel stretched out her grace in search of Sam. The Winchester was sitting across the street, his computer on his lap and phone up against his ear, and he looked up as the two approached. "Hey," Dean greeted. "So it looks like our witch was here with two new friends."

"Raul's girls, probably," Alex added. "Who knows why she wants them, though. What about you? You find anything on the hunter network?"

Sam nodded, closing his laptop. "Yeah. This guy Darrell's been working a case, a series of grisly hotel murders, one at the Kensington, another at the Waldorf in Cleveland — bodies impaled on the ceiling."

Dean grimaced slightly at the mental image. "Sounds a little more homicidal maniac than witchy."

"That's what Darrell thought, too, until the autopsy came back. Actual cause of death —"

"Let me guess," Alex interrupted, reaching back to run her hands through her hair before she pulled it back into a ponytail. "Boiled brain?"

Sam nodded again. "Same as our waiter," he agreed.

"Well, I'll give it to this witch; she's got deep pockets." Dean shook his head in disbelief. "The Kensington, the Waldorf, this restaurant — that can't be cheap." Sam nodded and rose to his feet, and his brother's brow furrowed. "Where are we going next?"

"We're going to check every five-star hotel in the area." Sam looked around, wondering where to begin, and as if on cue, Alex's phone dinged.

The angel turned away to look down at the text, her lips twisting into a scowl to find that it was from Crowley. _Renaissance Hotel_ , it read. _My men will meet you there; follow their lead_. "Renaissance Hotel." Alex shoved her phone deep into her pocket as she scanned the streets for any sign of the building. "They're there." She could feel the Winchesters' gazes on her back, but she ignored their questioning stares as she found the black letters just down the street. "Give me a five minute heads start so they don't think we're there together."

She hurried off across the intersection, ignoring Dean's shouts for her to come back. She wove through the traffic, and the Winchester's voice was lost under the blaring horns of protest.

The lobby door was open, and Alex slowed to a walk as she stepped through. _Dean was right; the witch must have deep pockets to stay at a place like this_ , she thought as her eyes traced the elaborate lobby interior. She paused beside a glass panel at the sight of her own reflection, taking a moment to adjust the collar of her blouse; give her a pair of wings, and she would look like every other angel in heaven.

Alex lifted her chin higher, and she reached back to draw her angel blade as she journeyed deeper into the hotel. She could feel demonic souls ahead, twisted and battered, and her eyes narrowed as she stepped into view.

"Alex." A familiar face greeted her, and the demon waved her over to the rest of the group. "Crowley said you would be coming."

"Elias." Alex dipped her head, her gaze sweeping across the rest of the congregation. "What's going on here? I assume this has to do with the witch."

"Crowley wants her tagged and bagged." The woman at the front of the group spoke, her voice thick with displeasure at Alex's arrival. "It seems he doesn't trust _us_ enough if he sent you."

"All I was told was that I was to come here and you'd tell me what to do." Alex's answer came smoothly, and she reached back to tuck her weapon away in a show of trust. "I'm not here to kill anyone. Tell me where you want me."

"Perimeter." The woman's voice was firm. "With them." Her dark eyes flickered towards Elias before they turned over the crowd of demons. "Gerald. Stevens. With me."

Alex nodded, and she followed the demons back out of the hotel. She sent her grace outwards, feeling for the brothers, and she cocked an eyebrow in amusement to feel that they were almost there. "Come on, Elias." She waved the demon after her before pointing to two more. "And uh, you two. We'll take the alleyway out back."

She led the group away from the hunters, leaving the rest to guard the rest of the building; if those demons had any sense, they'd let the Winchesters through. She let her grace spill upwards, stretching it as far as she dared while still keeping it under control. She could feel souls, completely oblivious to the supernatural operation underneath them. "How's hell?"

"Hell." Elias spit out the word. "At least Crowley's back from his little vacation — I don't know who he thinks he is, leaving like that. He has a _kingdom_ to run, and instead he spends his time running around with a _Winchester_?"

"I'm sure he had his reasons." Alex kept her voice level, her answer intentionally vague, and the demons all around her frowned. "It's not like him to never to have a plan." She paused at the alleyway, looking it up and down before adding, "I don't suppose you've tried talking to him about it."

Silence followed her words, and the angel was vaguely aware of awkward glances being passed around. "Crowley doesn't take well … to constructive criticism," one of the younger demons began. "He's already killed five who have tried. We … we were hoping that maybe you would speak to him."

Alex scoffed at the prospect. "We're not pen pals," she reminded; however, she felt smug pride settle in her chest at the thought that these demons thought so much of her. "I'll see what I can do," she promised after a heartbeat. "Perhaps his temper will be soothed if we can bring him this witch-bitch."

No response came, and Alex stretched out her grace. She could feel the Winchesters in the hotel, and her ears picked up the distant sound of a scream: female. Personally, Alex hoped it was that demon who had ordered her outside. She turned her ears even more, eyes drifting closed as she tried to picture the scene in her head. The demons milled around her, their sulfurous uncertainty prickling through the air, and her grey eyes flickered open. "They're coming." She could hear a skirmish on the first floor, with footsteps heading in their direction. "We should be out of sight."

Her feet carried her silently around the corner, back pressing against the stone, and the demons scrambled to do the same. She saw black eyes flash at the sound of a metal door flying open, but her grace had her keeping the demons at bay. "What'd you do?" she heard a woman say, voice high in panic. "What did you do to her?!"

"Attack-dog spell." A second voice answered, calm and disinterested, and Alex cocked her head at the thick accent. "We needed a decoy."

"But — but she'll die, just like the waiter." The women had ceased their approach, and Alex shook her head when black eyes met hers, and she mouthed out, _No._

"Probably," came the response. "Few humans are built to survive magic like that, and Elle was weak. But you're not." The Scottish accent grew thicker as the witch's insistence grew. "I saw it the second we met. You're strong."

"You're right. I am." The sound of bones colliding filled the alleyway as a punch was thrown, and the first woman stalked away. The footsteps grew closer, and Alex pointed a finger at the young demon who stood across for her.

" _Occuideris ingrat_ —"

"Not another word!" Dean's sharp command cut into the Latin chant, and Alex gave a swift, sharp nod as the woman stepped into view. Her eyes stretched wide at the sight of them, but a hand around her mouth stopped her from screaming for help. Alex only had time to see the panic flashing through her eyes before she was gone.

 _Perfect_. The angel mouthed the word, and she turned her ear back to the alleyway. "Lady," Dean was saying, and Alex's grace felt the sleek metal of his gun, "your luck has just run out."

She heard the hammer of a pistol being pulled back with a click, and the angel's eyes narrowed at the sound; it was too harsh for Dean's weapon. The witch's laugh confirmed her suspicions. "I'm pretty sure that's not true."

A whistle sounded through the air, followed by Dean's low groan. "Pal, we got to work on your timing."

"Drop the gun, Dean-o." The voice was familiar, low and cold, and Alex pressed her shoulder into the brick wall beside her to keep herself from moving into help. Dean didn't need help; he had —

The angel's grace snapped in surprise. Where was Sam? Her grace exploded outwards, stronger than she had meant, and lightbulbs shattered in its wake. She felt Sam's soul inside, bubbling with panic, and she almost missed the witch's words. "You heard the boy." A gun clattered to the ground, and the light, delicate footsteps approached. The angel drew her grace in and stepped away from the brick wall, and with a flick of her hand, the demons fanned out on the other side.

The first thing that struck her was the witch's hair, a bright, flaming red. Blue eyes flashed in shock, and Alex almost stumbled back in surprise as a hex bag flew through the air. Instinctively, she reached out to catch it, and her grace snapped violently at the darkness inside. She drove her grace inwards, and the bag exploded into flames. "Rowena." Alex let her eyes glow blue as she dropped the smoldering remains, and the witch took a startled step back. "That's your name, isn't it?"

" _Regimen meum_ —"

The demons swarmed from every side, overwhelming the redheaded witch, and Alex shoved her hands into her pockets as the woman was detained. Thick iron shackles became visible as the demons drew away, and Alex took a moment to trace the etched sigils with her eyes before the witch interrupted her thoughts. "What are you?" she demanded, her anger thickening her tone. "You're not a demon."

"No," Alex agreed, "I'm not. But I'm handing you off to some." She nodded to Elias. "Take her to Crowley. I'll let him know you're on the way. And I'll see if I can speak to him about his attitude," she added after a moment.

Her words seemed to sate the demons, and they and Rowena disappeared into thin air. Alex reached into her pocket, texting a hurried, _Mission accomplished_ to the King of Hell before her feet carried her back into the alleyway.

Dean stood with his back to her, hands in the air, and the angel drew her weapon as she recognized the man who held the Winchester at gunpoint. "Cole." Alex twisted her blade, which glimmered in the sunlight as her grace fought to bond with the warm metal. "That was your name, wasn't it?"

"Stop where you are." The gun swung onto her, but the angel barely slowed her step.

"Dean?" Sam's voice came from behind Cole, and he stepped into view, gun raised. Cole spun around, blue eyes wide in sudden panic to find himself surrounded on each side.

"Hey, hey!" Dean stretched out his hands, trying to keep the situation calm. "Put the weapons down, guys! Put it down!" he snapped when neither moved. Sam lowered his gun, and Alex reluctantly did the same, slowly stooping to place her blade onto the concrete. "Cole, hey, right here." Dean drew the man's attention back onto him. "We're talking, okay?"

"Dean," Alex started, shifting closer, "what's going on —"

"Hey. Just — stay where you are, okay?" Dean waved her back, and the angel paused.

Cole's eyes flashed angrily, and the gun turned back to point at Dean's chest. "How can I believe you, huh?" His voice lifted into a shout. "How can I believe you?! My whole life, I've been …" He trailed off, jaw trembling, and Alex edged a little closer.

"I get it." Dean's hand went out to keep the angel at bay, but his eyes didn't leave Cole's face. "That was your story. Look, man, I got one of those, too, okay, but those stories that we tell to keep us going? Man, sometimes they just blind us. They take us to dark places — the kind of places where I might beat the crap out of a good man just for the fun of it." Cole's finger tightened on the trigger and his face twisted in a grimace, clearly remembering the humiliating defeat he had suffered at Dean's hands, but the Winchester continued. "The people who love me, they pulled me back from that edge."

Alex looked over at Sam, desperately trying to catch his eye, but Sam's gaze was firmly glued onto his brother. His hands still gripped his gun, fingers pressed tightly against the trigger guard.

Cole didn't speak up, and so Dean continued on, his voice softening but his tone losing none of its painful urgency. "Cole, once you touch that darkness … it never goes away. Now, the truth is … I'm past saving." His green eyes darkened as they fell onto the gun. "I know how my story ends. It's at the edge of a blade or the barrel of a gun. So, the question is, is that gonna be today? That gonna be the gun?"

Alex followed his gaze onto the engraved silver slide — _Dean's_ engraved silver slide — that rested against Cole's sweaty palm, his fingers trembling on where they rested. "You've got a family, Cole." Sam's voice broke into the gathering silence, and Cole turned his head. "I heard you on the phone that night. I'm guessing they need you to come back, and they need you to come back whole."

When the man turned back, his blue eyes shined with unshed tears. His jaw trembled slightly as he fought to keep they back, and his muscles tensed before he quickly spun the gun around. He held it out, grip pointed towards Dean, and the Winchester took it. "Thank you." Even Dean's voice was softer, the relief in his eyes evident.

Cole held his gaze, lips parted as if there was something else he needed to say, but after a second, he shook his head. "I … I should go home," he decided, and Alex's grace pulled her weapon up into her hand as the man stooped to retrieve his own gun, apparently knocked away during a skirmish. The angel turned her gaze onto Dean, seeing the small abrasions on his cheek for the first time, and she let her grace creep forward as she reached up to brush the skin.

"What happened?" she asked, keeping her words soft so the retreating man couldn't hear. "How did he find you?"

"He didn't say." Dean hissed as Alex's fingers turned onto a cut across the bridge of his nose. "Man's been doing his research, though. He had holy water and everything."

"Hopefully he won't need to use that stuff ever again." Alex turned her gaze to watch the dark Jeep drive off before she let her hand fall away from the Winchester's face.

"What about Rowena?" Sam asked, and his hazel eyes swept the alleyway, searching for the witch that was no longer there.

"Crowley has her." Alex hid her weapon and shoved her hands into her pocket, holding back the scowl she knew should come after those words. "He'll, I don't know, kill her or something. Either that or she'll be as good as dead."

Dean grunted. "You sure? I thought we killed all his mooks."

"You didn't kill me." Alex let her gaze swing up onto his face. "I delivered her to the demons myself. Don't give me that look," she added scornfully. "You were going to kill her, and Crowley's pissed she killed his men. I think we all had the same end goal in mind."

"Dean." Sam cleared his throat, and Dean's lips pursed at his brother's grave tone. 'What you said just back then, a-about being past saving — where you really —"

Dean cut him off with a scoff and a shake of his head. "I was just telling the guy what he needed to hear," he promised, but even his words sounded hollow. The tightening of Sam's face displayed his displeasure, and Dean turned his head away, clearing his gun and tucking it into his jeans. "Come on," he said, waving Sam and Alex after him as he started down the alleyway. "It's time we go."

...

* * *

 **Just a reminder that I'm posting through the mid-season finale and will then take about a month or so break before coming back with the rest (school has been exceptionally busy, unfortunately). This means that next Friday will be the last chapter for a bit!**

 **Thank you so much for reading!**

 **\- casti3l**


	9. Hibbings 911

**Ahh sorry my internet was down yesterday and I was so busy at school I didn't have time to post there! Sorry this is late, hate me if you want.**

 **...**

* * *

 **February 6th, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **T** he air was thick with sweat, and Alex struggled to breathe through the dull pain in her ribs. A fist came out of nowhere, and the angel, pivoted, barely recoiling in time to avoid it. She dug her nails into her palm, planting her feet as she gathered herself to deliver a counter blow, but her opponent was faster. His leg swept hers out from under her, and Alex grunted as her back hit the thin padding of the mat. Her vision swam at the impact, and the angel let her head fall back as she stared up at the concrete ceiling.

"That the best you got?" Dean planted a foot on her chest, and Alex's grunt turned into a throaty growl. The Winchester merely chuckled, removing his foot and extending a hand, and Alex reluctantly let him help her back to her feet. "You were doing better half an hour ago."

"Half an hour ago I hadn't had the shit beaten out of me," Alex muttered, and she pulled her messy hair back out of her face. She reluctantly let her grace sink outwards, healing the worst of the bruising, but the aches remained firm in her skin. "How long are we going to keep doing this?"

"You knock me down, we can stop." A thin sheen of sweat covered Dean's chest, and he rubbed his freckled shoulders with his discarded shirt before he turned back to face her. "Ready when you are."

Alex balled her fists, nostrils flaring as she adjusted her stance and rocked up onto the balls of her feet. Dean approached, swaggering forward, and the angel shifted backwards to keep out of his reach. Her grey eyes narrowed in concentration as he planted his left foot. _Left foot meant right punch_. The angel ducked the blow, straightening immediately to prepare for his next move.

Two more punches came in quick succession, each of which were easily avoided — the Winchester was clearly starting easy. At the third punch, Alex raised her right hand to deflect it, following it immediately with a blow aimed at Dean's chest. It landed, true to its target, and she heard him grunt slightly at the impact before an elbow caught her off guard.

Alex hit the mat, using the force of the impact to roll out of the way and scramble to her feet. Her grace strained at her chest, desperate to get out, but the angel kept it quelled; the rules stated she had to do this alone: no supernatural help allowed.

How she was going to topple someone like Dean Winchester was anyone's guess.

A fist flashing past her nose snapped her out of her thoughts, and Alex twisted away in surprise. Her leg snapped out, hooking around the Winchester's knee, and she pulled back violently. The move upset his balance, and in a last ditch effort, Alex threw her full weight under his arms and into his stomach.

They collapsed in a tumble of arms and legs, and Alex grunted as Dean rolled on top of her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, putting him in her guard, and she surged up, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck and pulling him down into a guillotine choke. Dean reared up, ripping himself free, and Alex followed him, hooking an arm and driving him backwards to send the Winchester sprawling onto the ground. He grunted as his skull collided with the mat, and Alex rolled on top, one hand planted on his bare chest. "Fight's over," she huffed out, digging her blunt fingernails into his skin to briefly emphasize her point. "I win."

"Yeah, right." Dean pushed her off of him, and Alex fell back onto the mat, stretching out her limbs in a dramatic gesture of exhaustion. "You finally got that sweep right, I see."

Alex half-heartedly punched at the air, a sign of her victory. "Yup," she agreed breathlessly. "Finally." She rolled over, pressing her forehead into the cool foam. "God, I need a shower."

A light swat to her calf had her sitting up to watch Dean push himself to his feet. "Don't think this is over," he reminded, rubbing his head from where it had collided with the ground. "I was going easy on you. We've still got a lot of work to do." He picked up his shirt and sniffed it, recoiling slightly at the smell. "Go get cleaned up," he instructed after a second. "Maybe Sam's found something."

Alex didn't wait for any further instructions before she hurried away. She bounded down the stairs towards the showers, but the feeling of Sam's soul from the library had her pausing. She circled around, bare feet silent on the concrete floor as she made her way down the halls.

Sam was in the library, hunched over a book, and he didn't notice Alex's presence until she dropped down into a chair across from him with a huff. "Uh, hey." Hazel eyes flashed in amusement at her flushed face and wet clothes. "Have a nice shower?"

"Ugh. This is sweat, not water." Alex tugged at her damp hair with a noise of disgust. "Dean worked my ass off upstairs. If that was him pulling punches …" She trailed off and shook her head, leaving the rest unspoken. Sam chuckled, and Alex motioned to the large array of books around them. "What's all this?"

"I don't know. It was here when I woke up this morning." Sam's large shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "Dean's probably still looking into the Mark of Cain."

"And rightly so." Alex's grace snuck out to feel the eldest Winchester making his way to the showers. "And he — have either of you found anything on removing it?" The grim look on Sam's face said it all, and Alex leaned back, barely stifling a groan at the pain in her muscles. "Great."

She ran fingers down her side, feeling traces of bruising from Dean's fists, the last ache that her grace hadn't removed. "I've been looking into some of the pre-biblical lore," she heard Sam begin. "There's not much, and a lot is still untranslated. It's interesting," he was quick to add, "but nothing points to the Mark. There, uh, there was one script that mentioned Sheol, though." He shuffled through the mess on the table, and Alex's head cocked in interest as a dusty old book was placed in front of her, the pages marked with a myriad of post-it notes.

"Huh." Alex half-heartedly flipped through the old manuscript, eyes skimming the small, hand-written words. "Anything of interest?"

"Yeah, a bit." The table creaked as Sam leaned forward to flip through the pages. "Uh, this word here, uh, I can't pronounce it, but from what I can gather it means 'those who dance on the edge of a coin.' " He pointed to a jumble of scrawled letters, and Alex narrowed her eyes as she tried to recognize the language before she turned her attention to the other side of the page, translated into English; a blank line signified the lack of knowledge for the word's meaning.

"Okay, sure, I can see how that makes sense. One side being hell, the other heaven." Alex nodded in understanding, but despite her feigned interest, her her grace stretched out to feel if Dean was still in the shower as she absently added, "Anything else?"

"Uh, well, it, uh, doesn't call Sheol by name, but instead refers to it as The Valley of Death." The next thing Alex knew, Sam was on his feet, and three steps took him around the table so he could lean over the back of her chair, his interest fully ensnared by the text. Alex leaned away from the hunter, his body heat too much for her overheated skin, but he didn't seem to notice. "It was Death who brought the souls there, and they thought that these souls had to walk from one end of the valley to the other, and with each step they took they had to relive their entire lives."

"Okay. And is there anything about why I'm back?" Alex glanced up into Sam's face, half-hidden by his shaggy brown hair.

"What? Uh, no. No." Sam shook his head and pulled away, his pale lips pressed together in a frown. "No, nothing like that. I just thought you'd find this stuff interesting."

The shower water turned off, and Alex pushed herself to her feet. "Yeah," she half-heartedly agreed. "I'll read over it some more once I've had a chance to clean up." She emphasized her words by brushing a hand across Sam's arm on her way to close the book, and the Winchester gave a small, understanding nod. He stepped back, and Alex hurried away.

...

 **T** he cold, icy spray of the shower was a relief, and Alex lost track of time beneath the pounding water. It was only the ache in her legs that kept her from staying in there long, and the young angel reluctantly shook the water from her hair and stepped out from beneath the shower head. The air was somehow colder than the shower, and the young angel shivered as she wrapped her towel tightly around her. Her grace stretched out to feel the Winchesters in the library as she hastily dried and dressed herself, and she tossed her towel over the towel rack before she made her way to her room.

Alex threw on a sweatshirt over her already dampening shirt and pulled her hair up into a messy bun, pausing only long enough to check her appearance in the mirror before she made her way back to the main room.

Sam and Dean sat across from each other, each buried in their work. Dean was pouring over the old texts, shoulders hunched and face twisted in frustration, a complete opposite from his relaxed, laid-back brother. Sam looked up at Alex's arrival, hazel eyes turning away from his laptop, and he nodded his welcome as she sat down beside her. "Hey." She drew her legs up beneath her as she curled up in the chair. "Find anything on the Mark yet?" she asked Dean.

"Nothing." Dean's scowl darkened. "You'd think these eggheads, with all the crap they amassed over the years, would have actually collected something important." A large manuscript was tossed in her direction, landing on the table in front of her. "Uh, here. 'He-wolf/She-wolf: a Study in Werewolf Transgenderism.' " He scoffed, green eyes rolling around at the ridiculous content. "That thing is six hundred pages, volume one. But, uh, there's not something important like — I don't know — maybe the oldest symbol known to man. That's not worth our time. It's not weird enough."

Alex shot a glance over at Sam as Dean's rant came to an end, unsure how to respond, and she slowly pushed the dusty book away. "That's … great. Well, keep looking, I guess."

The ringing of Sam's phone let her fall silent, attention turning onto the dark-haired Winchester as he pulled out his phone. "No way," she heard him murmur in surprise at the name on the screen, and he quickly pressed the device up against his ear. "Hey! Jody. How's it going?"

Alex recognized the voice of Jody Mills, and she leaned closer to try and pick out the words. "— time of my life at a sheriff's retreat in Hibbing," the sheriff was saying, and Alex chuckled at the distaste in her voice.

"Wow. Sounds like a blast." Sam mimicked Alex's laugh, and Dean looked up long enough to wave his fingers in the direction of the phone. "Uh, Dean says hi. And Alex," he added when Alex was quick to mimic Dean's gesture.

Jody made a surprised noise, but the angel couldn't pick out distinctive words from her following angry response. "Yeah, uh, right." Sam awkwardly cleared his throat, and he shifted the phone to the other ear to keep Alex at bay as the angel leaned closer, intent on listening in. "Sorry about that." He paused, listening, and after a second, responded, "Good, good. Yeah, you know. Uh, you know, hold on a sec. I'm gonna put you on speaker."

He dropped his phone onto the table, and it crackled to life. "Hey, Jody." Dean pushed his book aside to lean forward. "How's, uh, your Alex holding up?"

"Awesome," came the dry response. "Already head of the cheerleading squad." Sam made a noise of surprise, and Jody scoffed. "I'm kidding. She smokes grass under the bleachers, but at least she's not luring men to their deaths." The sheriff let out a sigh. "How about your Alex?"

"Great. I'm right here, actually." The table creaked as Alex leaned her elbows on it. "It's been a long time since I've heard your voice. What's up with this surprise call?"

Jody snorted in amusement at her words. "Listen. This may not be your kind of thing, but a body was found here this morning, and something had gone to chow town on it."

"What do you mean?" Alex was quick to ask. "Was there anything missing? Hearts? Throats ripped out?" She looked between Sam and Dean, curious as to if either of them had answers, but Jody spoke before they could.

"Worse," she replied, her voice crackling through the speakers. "I'm hearing that all the flesh had been eaten down to the bone. Any ideas?"

The Winchesters exchanged looks from across the table. "Well, it's not a vampire," Dean confirmed, his eyes darkening, and when Sam shrugged, he added, "Jody, we could head that way. Wouldn't be any trouble at all."

"Nah." Alex could hear the shake of the sheriff's head in her tone. "It's okay. I can handle it. I promise I'll call if it gets to be something I can't."

"Alright." Sam reached for his phone with a small grin. "Well, uh, enjoy the retreat."

"Screw you, Winchester —" Jody's voice cut off as Sam hung up, and he tucked his phone back into the pocket of his jeans with a chuckle. Alex leaned back in her chair, and after a second or two, Dean did the same with a low, angry groan.

"I swear," he muttered, "I'mma swallow a bag of knives if I got to keep looking at this stuff." His hands thudded down on the table, and the Winchester made a move to rise to his feet. "Let's —"

"Jody said she was on top of it, Dean." Sam was quick to cut Dean off, and the Winchester's shoulders fell. He let out a half-hearted agreement, the noise drawn out in reluctance, and he cast his eyes over his work before they turned up onto Sam, green eyes sparkling in a silent plea.

Sam turned to Alex, searching for backup, but the angel mimicked Dean's expression, bottom lip sticking out in a small pout. "What if Jody needs help? We're all the way down here."

Sam rolled his eyes as he looked between her and his brother, and Alex let her eyebrows turn up, completing the pleading look. "You're the worst." His hand thudded down on the table, and a grin broke out across Dean's freckled face. "Alright. Fine. Let's take a drive."

...

 **T** he body that lay in front of her wasn't much of a body at all. Alex tugged the sleeves of her blouse down to further cover her arms, shivering slightly at the refrigerated room as she stepped closer to the flesh-stripped corpse. "You say there's been two of these?" she asked the coroner, and she circled around the table to make room for Sam and Dean.

"Second one just came in about two hours ago," the dark-haired woman agreed, and she gave a small, stressed yank of her long hair. "The majority of the flesh is missing, just like the first. All the major organs were taken without a trace." The coroner moved over to a second covered body to draw back the sheet, exposing blood-stained ribs that met flesh at the neck.

Alex heard Dean grimace, and she hesitantly leaned over the corpse to further examine the damage. The bones had been picked near-clean, with, like the woman had said, not a trace of internal organs remaining. "How was the flesh removed?" she asked curiously. "Knife? Teeth?"

The faint, momentary squinting of the woman's eyes was the only sign of her confusion at Alex's strange question. "Lab analysis hasn't come back yet," she slowly began, "but it seems pretty clear it was an _animal_. This far north, you get stuff big enough to kill a man." The coroner shook her head in disbelief. "I haven't heard of one doing anything this cleanly, though."

Alex hummed in understanding, letting the vaguely pointed answer slide. "What was the cause of death?"

"Blood loss, undoubtedly. Most likely from this wound right here." The coroner moved around to the top of the corpse and pointed at the neck, where a gaping portion of flesh had been ripped away. "From the staining at the scene, it seems that they were dead before the abdomen was opened."

Alex hummed again, this time the tone sharp with interest, but all she said was, "How humane of them." She let her grey eyes wander over the corpse as she fell into silence, and the coroner stepped away. "Well?" The angel turned up to the Winchesters, lowering her voice so the woman couldn't hear. "This is new."

"You're telling me." Dean's face darkened as he looked between the bodies. "Whatever this thing is, it's nothing like anything I've seen." When Sam simply shrugged, the Winchester let out a quiet sigh. "Alright. Where's this police retreat at? Thank you," he added to the coroner, speaking up so the woman could hear.

"Uh, about five minutes outside of town." Sam led the way towards the door, and Alex and Dean followed him out to the car. "Definitely not a bear, though."

Dean scoffed in agreement as he unlocked the Impala's doors, and Alex crawled into the backseat as the engine roared to life. "Werewolf?" he suggested. "The heart was definitely gone."

"Maybe." The tightness in Sam's tone made it clear his agreement was forced. "If we're lucky, the cops were able to find something from a nearby surveillance camera."

The car jolted forward as it took off down the street, and Alex reached over to steady her things on the backseat as they slid precariously close to the edge, and she kicked off her dress shoes as she drew her legs up onto the seat. "That was fucking weird," she added as the Impala sped off down the main road. "Picked clean like that - it was meticulous. Definitely intentional." She reached over the seat to pluck the manilla file out of Sam's hand, flipping through the papers to find the photos of the crime scene. Just like the coroner had said, the ground was stained red with blood, heaviest by where the victim's neck has been. "Neck wounds tend to mean vampires," she put forward helpfully.

"Except they eat blood, not flesh," Dean reminded. "Maybe, uh, the neck thing was just like you said - humane way of putting them down. Human?" he guessed after a second's pause. "Wouldn't be the first time we ran into creeps like this in Minnesota."

Sam's immediate response was a grimace, his eyes darkening the memory. "This is the right area," he reluctantly agreed. "Except we killed the whole Bender family."

"Not the little girl. She'd be what, uh, eighteen, twenty by now? Old enough to be out of the slammer. Maybe she's, you know, carrying on the family business."

"Oh God, I hope not." Sam held out his hand back over his head, and Alex reluctantly returned the folder to him. "But you're right, that's a pretty good place to start. I can make some calls, see if I can find out where she went if the cops are willing to release that sort of information. She was a minor," he reminded Dean. "Chances are her records were expunged."

"Wait, we're talking about those cannibals who tried to eat Sam, right?" Alex leaned over the backseat, eyes narrowing as she racked her brain. "I definitely remember something to that effect from the show - Sheol," she was quick to correct. "From … wherever."

"Yeah. It sucked." The Impala turned off the highway and down a narrow side road. "We getting close, Sammy?"

"It's just at the end of this road. Take a left when it forks." Sam barely glanced up from the folder, too engrossed in the information it contained. "Why would they just leave the body in the middle of the yard, though? I mean, this second vic was found beside the garbage cans in his house. The wife said she found his body half an hour after she last saw him alive." He shook his head as he looked over at his brother. "Wouldn't it be safer to take him somewhere else?"

Dean shrugged, and the Impala rolled to a stop next to a large, cabinesque retreat. "You can't argue with crazy." He removed the keys, and the engine died. "Come on." Dean got out of the car, pausing as his eyes swept across the parking lot filled with cop cars. "Someone at this place should at least know something."

Sam only shrugged, and Alex fell in step behind the two brothers as she let them lead the way into the lodge. Her nose crinkled at the sudden rush of sound and warmth, shoulders drawing in tight as a man squeezed past her. Sam's head stuck above the crowd, and the angel lengthened her stride to walk at his side, ignoring how the open room swarmed with cops. The short-haired Winchester was humming casually, the low chorus of _The Weight_ audible beneath the bustle of the crowds, and Alex's eyebrows knitted momentarily at his lack of concern for their surroundings; there was little doubt that at least _one_ of the occupants had met the trio of fake FBI before.

"Hey! I said I could handle it." A familiar voice had her turning to see Jody Mills, the cold crossing of her arms in direct contrast to the warmth in her eyes as he looked the three of them up and down.

Her stoic facade was ignored by the Winchesters, and Dean grinned at the sight of the sheriff. "Nice to see you, too," he joked, and Sam added a quiet, "Hey," from behind him.

"Hi." Jody's eyes hurriedly slid down from Sam to Alex before immediately returning to the tall Winchester. After a second, she shook her head, resigning to the fact that they were there to help. "Okay, well, I'm headed down to the morgue. You want in?"

"Actually we just came from there." Alex slipped out from behind Dean so she could stand in full sight. "Second vic was same as the first — flesh stripped away from shoulders to knees. Messy, but thorough."

Jody's eyebrows lifted slightly, and she asked, "Anything missing?"

Alex blinked, caught off guard by the strange line of questioning, and as her silence lengthened, Dean stepped in. "Uh, just his wallet. Why?"

The squaring of Jody's eyes signaled her displeasure at the news, and she lowered her voice so the crowd around them couldn't overheard. "Because I think a belt was missing off the first kid."

"A belt?" Sam repeated the word in confusion, and he looked over at his brother, who could only shrug, unsure of what to make of it either. "So … what? We have monster eating and then robbing people?"

"Jodio!" A bright, chirping voice drifted through the air, originating from somewhere along the far wall, and Alex watched as Mills' eyes rolled into the back of her skull, groaning in irritation. "You take sugar?" The tone was high-pitched, the cadance a thick Minnesotan accent, and Alex narrowed her eyes; she could have sworn she had heard that voice before.

"No." Jody's eyes flickered close for a moment, but she managed to keep her voice calm. "No sugar. It's, uh, don't ask," she added to the Winchesters when Sam's eyebrows lifted.

"Wait a second." Hazel eyes lit up in recognition, and Sam quickly ducked his head as he spoke to his brother, shoulders hunching as he tried to hide himself behind Jody's small frame. "Isn't that, uh, uh, Donna?"

"Fat-spa Donna!" Recognition clicked in his brother's eyes, and he craned his neck to peer through the crowd. "Right."

Alex peered around Jody to catch sight of the plump blonde woman, dressed in her sharp blue uniform, and she ducked back behind the sheriff before their eyes met. Jody's arms crossed as she regarded the to brothers in disbelief. "You guys know my stalker?"

Sam's response was a groan, and Dean added, "She nearly blew a case for us last time." His lips set in a tight line, and Alex shifted so she stood at Jody's side, pointing her back at Donna as to hide her face.

"Yeah, I haven't been able to shake that ray of sunshine since she got here." Jody shook her head, letting out a small breath of frustration before she shrugged. "She's actually been pretty helpful," she admitted, "but, you know, it's just tough keeping her out of this nightmare stuff, you know?"

"Right." Sam's hand came to rest on Alex's shoulder, and the angel looked up at him curiously. "Uh ,you two mind distracting her while Dean and I poke around?"

Alex's mouth opened in protest, but Jody beat her to the punch. "You show up, and now I'm a babysitter?"

"Look," Sam half-pleaded, "she hasn't gotten mixed up with this crap yet. Let's just try and keep it that way. Okay?" Alex felt his eyes fall on him, and when she didn't readily agree, he repeated himself, his hand squeezing her shoulder to emphasize his plea. "Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," the angel relented. "I heard you the first time. She'll never even know we were here—"

"Agent Freely?" The cheery voice came from behind her, and Alex spun around in surprise. Donna Hanscum was looking up at Sam, a wide grin on her face before she turned to Dean and Alex. "Agent Criss and Phillips."

"Hey." Sam forced a smile, and Alex felt a faint blush rise on her face, surprised to find that the woman had managed to sneak up on her. "Sheriff Hanscum."

"I thought it was you!" Donna chirped, two cups of coffee balanced in her hands. She grinned at the three of them, taking her time to take in their appearance before her blue eyes flickered over to Jody Mills. "Well, ain't this a kick in the pants? What dragged you in?"

"Um," Dean stuttered, "well, uh … we can't talk about it."

"Oh. Yeah." Donna winked knowingly, and Alex barely held back a roll of her eyes. "I hear ya. Anything I can help with?"

She looked up at Sam, face blank with childlike expectancy, and Sam's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no," he rushed out. "Uh, nothing." His hands disappeared into his pockets, clearing his throat before he fell silent with a curt nod.

Jody cleared her throat. "Actually, Sheriff," she began, "I was thinking you and I could go check out the gear expo."

Donna's smile faltered. "What about the morgue?"

"Well, you know, like you said, animal control will handle that." Jody clapped Alex on the shoulder, adding, "Why don't you come with us, huh? I'm sure the three of you were going to split up anyways."

Alex nodded, watching how Donna's eyes slowly began to light up once again. "I did hear they're packing some pretty serious heat in there," the blonde sheriff admitted, and her smile returned. "Alright. Let's go."

Donna handed Jody her coffee before she turned and led the way further into the room, and Alex cast a look back at Sam and Dean before she followed; their heads were bowed in quiet conversation, and they didn't even notice her glance. With a roll of her eyes, Alex turned away and followed Jody.

They passed down a hall, and Alex lengthened her stride to walk at Jody's side. "So … how have you been?" she began politely. "I haven't seen you in a long time." She cleared her throat when Donna fell in step, and the angel lifted her chin to regain her sense of professionalism. "You're looking great, by the way," she added to the blonde, letting her lips lift into a polite smile. "How are things in Stillwater?"

Donna's eyes twinkled at Alex's compliment. "Oh, you know. Busy as ever. But that's the way it is around there."

"It's a beautiful area." The angel shoved her hands into her pockets, searching for someway to keep the conversation going. "I, uh, actually grew up there, just west of the downtown area."

"I betcha did." Donna's smile grew even more. "I can hear it in your voice," she explained when Alex blinked in surprise. "You sound like one of us."

"I — I don't think so." Alex quickly shook her head and looked over at Jody in search of support. "I don't sound anything like that. No offense," she quickly added, "but your accent is really strong. Like, _really_ strong."

Donna's head tipped back in a laugh as Alex stumbled through her apology. "None taken. You city slickers don't talk the same way that us northern folk do. Me, well, I grew up not more than twenty minutes north of here — op, and here we are."

A large room lay in front of them, lined with tables displaying gadgets of all kinds, and Alex's eyebrows lifted in amazement at the diversity. Donna took the lead, and Alex hung close to Jody's side, acutely aware of how out of place she was among the law enforcement that surrounded her. A few glanced her way, but Alex kept her head down, staying close to Jody's side. They passed a table of vests, laid out before a gathering crowd of murmuring officers, and Donna came to stop beside a display of handguns.

The man behind the table was busy speaking to another sheriff, tall and broad, and Alex snuck out from behind Jody to run curious fingers over the slide of a black pistol. "This is my kind of convention," she joked quietly, grinning wolfishly up at Jody Mills.

"Uh, officer ladies." The showman turned to them, amiability dancing in his eyes. "Check this out." He picked up a small handgun, turning it over to show off its design. "You can take it to lunch, to the gym, have your nails done. She's alway by your side."

"Huh. How about this puppy?" Jody pointed to a much larger gun, and the man blinked, surprised by her choice.

"Oh. Well, it depends." The shock lasted barely a second before his lazy grin returned, and he winked at the three of them. "Think you can handle a big one?"

Jody hefted the weapon in her hands, testing its weight. "Sigma, right?" She handed it to Alex, and the angel turned it over, feeling her way along the thick metal body. She grunted in agreement before passing it on to Donna.

"Ten pounds pull weight," the blonde officer guessed, nodding in confirmation with her partner's statement. "Cute."

Jody scoffed as Donna put the gun back onto its stand. "Call this a big one? Hope you drive a Porsche."

The vendor's brow furrowed at the insult, but before he could respond, a laugh came from behind Alex. "Chaz." And officer stood there, tall, broad, yet slightly-overweight, and he exchanged a grin with the man behind the table. "If you're trying to pull the wool over this one, you got the wrong girl. Sheriff Hanscum here is a wolf in sheepskin, right?" He winked over at Donna with a chuckle.

The blonde's lips were pursed together angrily, and it took her a moment before she brought herself around to respond. "Thank you, Doug. Wolves are majestic creatures. But save your flattery for other female people."

Alex tipped her head, confused by the cold response as she regarded the newcomer. He not only had the same thick accent, but he and Dona spoke to each other in a familiar fashion; clearly they knew each other well. She watched as Doug blinked, confused by Donna's rejection. "Oh." Realization flashed across his face. "Oh, Sheriff Goodhill." Doug chuckled again. "No. No, I mean, yeah — but, you know, we just met. Cufflinks — you know how it is."

"Cuff what?"

"Cufflinks!" For the first time, Doug seemed to notice Jody's presence, and he grinned down at her. "It'd a dating site for cops. Y-You on it, Donna?"

"Me?" Donna forced a small laugh. "No. Not quite there yet."

"Oh, you still, uh, getting into date shape, huh?" Doug patted his belly for emphasis, and Alex felt her grace stir angrily inside of her. She didn't notice that her fists had clenched at her side until Jody put a hand on her shoulder.

"For the love of God." Mills pushed Alex behind her as she stepped forward, her face dark with fury. "What is wrong with you? You get off on fat-shaming chicks?" The entire room fell silent, all attention on Mills, who turned to her partner to quickly add, "You are so not fat, by the way." Donna blinked, too shocked by Jody's outburst to respond, and the sheriff turned back to Doug. "And you — you are just a douche."

"Uh, o-okay." Doug took a step back, taken off-guard by the sudden, vehement retaliation, and his mouth hung open as he searched for some sort of a response. "I'll just , uh … okay then." His feet carried him back another step, and he suddenly swiveled and hurried away.

"Nice." Alex pulled her hand away from where it had migrated to the hilt of her blade, giving the sheriff an approving nod. "I was getting ready to punch that asshole. Who the hell is he?"

Her question went unanswered, as Donna seemed far less appeased at Mills' outburst. "What the h-e-double-hockey-sticks, Jody?" she snapped, her eyes eyes stretched wide in mollification. "Calling my ex a douche to his face?"

Jody's eyes narrowed in indignation. "It didn't look like you were going to do it!" she retorted.

"What would be the point? We've divorced! You really think I'm gonna change him now?"

 _Right_. Alex cast a look over her shoulder, trying to catch sight of the tall man. That was right; Donna had mentioned something about her ex-husband when they had met. "So he gets to treat you like a doormat forever?" she heard Jody snap, exasperated. "Is that it?"

"How about this? Til you've actually lost a husband, you keep your mouth zipped about mine." Alex turned around at Donna's words, just in time to see Jody stiffen. Her grace flicked out angrily at the blonde's tactlessness, and she opened her mouth to snap, but the growing look of horror across Donna's face stopped her. "Did …" she slowly began, "did something happen … to your husband?"

Jody forced a smile, and when Alex lay a hand upon her shoulder, her voice lowered. "We all have our crosses to bear, right?"

A moment of silence followed her words as Donna searched for something to say, but when nothing profound came, all she managed was, "Hey, I'm sorry if I … You want to talk about it or —"

"No." Jody cut her off with a gentle shake of her head before heaving a sigh. "Not right now. It's okay," she added when Donna's despondence grew. "It's fair. I certainly went there."

"Alright then." The older sheriff's forgiveness did little to cheer the blonde up, and Donna's shoulders fell even further. "I'm gonna get some air."

She hurried away, and Alex's hand fell away from Jody's shoulder. "I'm sure she'll be fine," she weakly promised, grey eyes following the cop until she disappeared from sight. "You alright?"

"Yeah." With a sigh, the sheriff shook off her thoughts. "Don't worry about it." She stepped away from the gun display, and Alex followed, not fully convinced by Jody's response. "Anyways. So, Sam said you and Dean were off the rails. What brought you back?"

Alex's grey eyes darkened, and she reluctantly let the conversation change. "He told you."

"He thought you had come to me." Somehow, Mills managed to sound disinterested, but the angel could see the curiosity gleaming in the corner of her eyes.

"It's complicated." Alex instinctively brushed off the question, casting a look down the hall to where she had left Sam and Dean. "I'm not sure how much I can tell you," she added, softening her voice, "but Dean … Dean's the one who went off the rails, and I had to follow. Because of Crowley." She shrugged, unsure of what else to say. "The important thing is that we're both back, safe and sound."

"I suppose." Jody frowned, displeased at the angel's vague answer, but the sound of police sirens cut short any pressing response. "The hell?" The sheriff's exclamation of surprise was echoed by the cops all around her, and Alex pushed past her friend at the appearance of Dean Winchester, a scowl on his face.

"Hey." The angel's voice was nearly drowned out by the clammer of confusion all around her, and she lifted herself up onto her toes to try and catch a glimpse of the source of commotion. "What the hell's going on here?"

"From what I just heard? Another body was found out back." The disgust on Dean's face made it clear that he had already been at the scene of the crime. "Same as the first two. Hey, Jody," he added as Mills approached, and his green eyes darkened as he looked around. "Where's Donna?"

Sheriff Mills shrugged. "She just stepped outside for a bit to get some air. What's all this about?"

Dean was quick to repeat all he had learned. "Another body. Animal attack, my ass. I, uh, I spoke with Sheriff Len Cuse earlier — local PD," Dean clarified for Alex, and the angel hummed in understanding. "He said this was animal attack, cut and dry. Then he claimed he didn't have any surveillance footage of the attacks. Except when I spoke to deputy douche just now, he said Cuse changed the server password after the second attack and refused to let anyone else look at the feed."

"Definitely sounds sketchy," Alex agreed, and she cast a quick look around her in search of the men Dean had spoken of. "Is the Sheriff here?"

Dean shrugged. "I haven't seen him since Sam and I spoke to him. That was a good ten minutes ago."

He fell silent, and after a second or two, Jody spoke up. "I haven't seen him since the expo," she added before quickly clearing her throat. "So, how you doing, kiddo?"

"Me?" Dean's eyes flickered in surprise. "Uh, fantastic. Why?"

Jody shrugged nonchalantly, but her voice was sharp with unanswered questions. "Word round the campfire is you and Alex went off the rez a couple months back." She jerked a thumb back towards the angel, who squared her jaw in displeasure. "She won't say why or where the two of you went."

"That right? Good." The Winchester's eyes hardened. "You and Sam been passing notes during class, huh? It's nothing I can't handle."

Jody shook her head, unaffected by Dean's defensive words. "Just saying. I make a mean bowl of chowder if you ever need to talk."

The hunter's face softened, and his shoulders fell slightly. "I appreciate that." He turned as footsteps approached, and Alex took a step back so Sam could enter the small circle they had formed. "Hey," Dean greeted. "You got something?"

"Um, well, there was something." Sam looked between the three of them curiously, but when no one spoke up, he continued on. "Uh, I hacked into the surveillance server, but the files had been deleted."

"What? For real?" When Sam nodded, Alex looked up at Dean. "You said Sheriff Cuse was the only one who had access to those files —"

The quick widening of Sam's eyes had her cutting off, and her head whipped around to try and find what had trigger the nonverbal cue to shut up. Sheriff Donna Hanscum stood behind Jody, hands shoved nervously in her pockets, and Alex snapped her jaw shut.

"Hi," the blonde began, barely pausing to look at the three before she turned to Jody. "Jody, can we talk for a sec? Alone?" she added softly with a quick glance at Alex.

Jody nodded, and Dean added, "Yeah. We'll go — we'll go look around." The two women walked away, and Alex turned to fully face the brothers as Dean asked, "What about you? You sniff anything out?"

"Nothing. But I wasn't looking too hard." Alex gave a half-hearted shrug as she did a quick sweep of the room. "Okay, so are we thinking this Cuse guy is our perpetrator, or is he covering for someone?"

"Hard to say until we find him." Sam reached up to brush back his hair, and his own hazel eyes flashed as he scanned their surroundings. "He couldn't have gotten too far." He stepped towards the crowd, and Alex fell in step alongside him as they moved towards the hall. "How's Jody doing? Anything new with her?"

"Dunno." Alex's shoulders quickly rose and fell. "I never got around to asking her, I guess. Not with Dona around. We had to maintain some professionalism, but I guess there's nothing going on that's so important it couldn't wait." They moved further down the hall, and Alex pointed to the approaching doorway. "Uh, gear expo is in there. Kitchen's are the next room down, I think," she added, lifting her nose to sniff at the air. "Mess hall straight ahead, and from the look of the place when we came in, rooms are all the way at the end."

"Sounds about right." Dean nodded in agreement with her analysis. "Alright. Why don't we split up? I'll head to the dining hall, you two take a quick sweep of the expo." He waited until Sam nodded before he hurried off down the hall, leaving Sam and Alex standing by themselves.

"You think he's here to work or to eat?" Alex accompanied her good-natured rib with a grin, and she was rewarded with a smile from Sam.

That smile, however, was quick to fade. "How do you think he's doing?" Sam's face darkened in worry as Dean disappeared from sight, and Alex frowned. "Has he said anything to you about t-the Mark?"

"Nothing." Alex shook her head. "When we were with Crowley, he said Dean needed to kill to keep the Mark sated. I don't … I don't think that's changed, so maybe we just … need to keep our heads down and let Dean kill shit." She ended abruptly as a pair of sheriffs walked past, clamping her mouth shut until they had moved back out of earshot.

"Maybe you're right." A note of defeat lined Sam's voice, and he sighed. "What about you?"

"Me?" Alex squinted, surprised at the question. "Dude, I'm totally fine. Glad to be back home." Alex shrugged as Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket, and her curiosity grew as he frowned. "What? What's up?"

"Uh, nothing, maybe. I just got a, uh, voicemail from Jody." Sam pressed his phone up against his ear as he listened closely, and Alex took the moment to adjust the cuffs of her sleeves.

"Voicemail?" she repeated, turning to study the crowd that was still milling around in the lobby. "We just spoke to her like, what? A minute ago? Maybe two?"

No response came, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Sam's frown darken. He tucked his phone back into his pocket, and Alex looked up expectantly as she waited for an explanation. "Well, it looks like Cuse is definitely our guy," the Winchester relayed. " I guess Donna saw something. Jody says he's staying in room 304, and she and Donna are headed there now."

"Did she say how they knew?" Alex's answer was met with a shake of Sam's head, and she looked down the hall to the spot where they had left Dean. "Well, I guess that's as good a place to start as any. Lead the way."

Sam moved off down the hall, and Alex followed, pulling her grace upwards as they climbed the stairs. "Dean." The sound of Sam's voice had her looking up to see the Winchester on his phone again. "We're headed up to room 304. Jody says it's Cuse. Meet us." He hung up with a shake of his head, and Alex reached back for her weapon. She felt the handle of her angel blade resting against the grip of her gun, and the angel hesitated, unsure which to draw as they turned down the hall.

Room 304 was close to the stairs, and Alex finally decided to pull out her blade as Sam stooped to pick the lock. The door swung open with little difficulty, and Sam pocketed his picks as he pushed his way inside. "Whoa, whoa!" His hands immediately went up defensively, and Alex rushed in to confront whatever was inside.

She was met by Jody Mills, a machete in hand. "Got your voicemail," Sam finished, and he slowly lowered his hands as Jody's shoulders fell in relief.

"Sheriff Cuse is a vampire," she told them, but her voice was partially drowned out by Donna's wide-eyed, "She just pulled out a machete!" The blonde looked up at Sam, face blank with shock, and Alex nodded in understanding as Jody lowered her weapon. "Donna saw her teeth," she finished.

"What the cuss?" Donna's head whipped around to stare up at Jody, her accent thickening as her shock grew. "A vampire?"

"You want to give her the talk?" Alex turned at the sound of Dean's voice from the doorway, and Jody gave a grim nod. "Hey," he added as he turned to his brother. "Got your message. Definitely Cuse?"

"Donna saw his teeth," Alex confirmed. "Hey, you two," she added, waving Jody and Donna towards them. "Let's get out of this room before vamp cop decides to come back, huh?" She looked up at Sam to make sure the Winchester agreed before she pushed them all out of the room, using her grace to lock the door behind them.

"Donna …" She heard Jody begin, and she let the two fall behind as she followed Dean down the stairs. "What you saw … it was real. You saw a vampire. Monsters, ghosts, demons. They're all real. These three, they hunt them. That's Sam, Dean, and Alex." Alex glanced back to see that the sheriff was pointing them out. "They've helped me out on more than one occasion."

"Heck. Just … heck." The door squeaked as they stepped outside, and Alex smiled at Donna's disbelief.

She watched as Dean looked back over his shoulder as he paused by his car. "We good?" he asked, and Jody gave him a quick, curt nod.

Donna, however, was less than satisfied with the rushed and vague explanation she had been given. "Wait. So, when we were at the weight-loss spa —"

"Monsters." Dean shrugged as he dug out his keys. "Sucking on your fat. We took care of them."

"Ah, jeez. I knew losing ten pounds that fast was too good to be true." Donna's face fell, and Alex couldn't help but laugh at the women's takeaway from Dean's blunt statement. The blonde reached into her pocket, and the rustle of paper reached Alex's ears as she pulled forth a note and held it out to Sam. "Here. Maybe this is where sheriff … vampire went."

Sam's phone dinged as he hurriedly typed in the address scrawled in lead, but Dean was far less convinced. "It could be anything," he reminded before he looked over at his brother's screen. "What do you got?"

"Looks like it's an old farm outside of town," Sam reported, and Dean grunted. "Could be something."

"And it's the only lead we got," Donna added, and Alex looked up in surprise at the sheriff's sudden and strongly opinionated input.

She lifted an eyebrow, and Sam did the same, mimicking the angel's skepticism. "We?" he repeated. "All due respect, Sheriff, but vampires are far more dangerous than the johns that you throw in jail."

Dean nodded, firmly adding, "You're gonna sit this one out."

"Stuff you, Dean!" Donna's response to the Winchester's concern was one of defensive anger, and Alex shifted, amused at the woman's spunk. "Or whatever your real name is."

Dean opened his mouth, ready to snap, but Jody cut in before he could retaliate. "Hanscum's good."

"Jody —"

"I said she's good." The sheriff's voice left no room for arguments, and the two Winchesters exchanged looks over Alex's head.

"Okay," Dean finally relented, the grim look in his eyes making his reluctance clear, and he turned back to Donna with a tight grimace. "But you're staying back. We're taking the lead, okay?" He unlocked the Impala's doors, but he didn't drop Donna's gaze until the woman finally nodded. "Great. Alex, up front."

"Yes, sir." Alex gave him a rushed, mock salute as she followed Sam around to the other side of the car. She slipped onto the bench seat, crossing her legs as she was boxed in by the two tall hunters. She glanced back to see the two sheriffs climbing in, and she shifted closer to Sam as Dean moved to turn on the car. The engine roared to life, and the Impala tore off down the street.

...

 **A** lex followed Sam out of the Impala, surpressing her grace as it tried to flick curiously outwards towards the dilapidated farmhouse. She tugged on the hem of her flannel shirt, fingers brushing over the still-crusted remains of an old blood stain. Gross. The angel let her hand drop back to her side, thankful for the darkness that hid her appearance. She really needed to do the laundry. "What's the plan?" She let her voice rise above a whisper as she addressed Dean, letting her gaze sweep across the small crowd. Jody and Donna stood off to the side, the blonde hanging close to her friend, while Sam and Dean circled around to the trunk.

"Here." Dean threw open the weapon's hatch and pulled out a machete, the cold steel glinting in the moonlight as he passed it to his brother. "And, uh, you two." He fished out two more weapons and held them out to Jody and Donna in turn. The blonde hesitated, and Dean's face grew grim. "If you're gonna swing, swing hard," he warned. "With vamps, head's gotta roll."

Donna hesitated, and for a second, Alex could have sworn the sheriff was going to back out. However, her blue eyes flashed with determination, and when Donna spoke, her voice didn't tremble. "Got it."

"Good." Alex pulled out her blade, twirling the weapon in her hands once to show off before she let it fall back to her side. "Keep back and let us take the lead."

Sam brushed past her, stepping lightly on the gravel road, and Alex followed close at his heels, moving silently across the loose rocks. She kept her grace in until she was out of range of the Impala, and then finally let it sneak out, careful to keep it under control as not to shatter any more lights. A faint glow came from the window up ahead, and the angel focused her attention there as she felt the soul inside. Monster. Vampire, undoubtedly. She elbowed Sam in the side, baring her teeth while she curled two fingers towards her lips. She accompanied the gesture with a jerk towards the window, and the Winchester nodded in understanding.

He repeated the signal back to Dean, and Dean nodded as well, stretching out a hand to keep Jody and Donna back. Sam paused by the window and pressed his back into the wooden siding, and Alex followed suit, ducking past him to peer up through the dusty panes.

A man sat inside, staring blankly down at a wooden desk, and Alex pulled away to look up at Sam. The Winchester met her gaze, and, seeing the question in her eyes, nodded: the man was their suspect Len Cuse. Alex pursed her lips and peered back up, and she felt a hot rush of surprise pass through her veins to find the desk empty. Her grace poured inwards, desperately searching for the vampire, and her feet almost slipped in the mud as Len suddenly appeared at the window, eyes stretched wide in panic. "Run!" The word was yelled, and in her surprise, Alex backpedaled.

She heard bodies hit the ground, one after another, and Alex spun. Colors flashed across her vision as pain exploded in her skull, and the angel collapsed onto the ground. Her grace protested, exploding outwards, and the light in the farmhouse shattered. There were voices, low and hurried, and Alex felt hands wrap themselves in her shirt as she was heaved upwards. The angel groaned, trying to fend off her attackers, but her limbs were heavy and unresponsive, stunned from the violent assault.

Sam was being dragged behind her, and although Alex couldn't see the others, she could hear the sound of their bodies being pulled through the dirt. They were alive; her grace confirmed that, still writhing violently through the air, and Alex grit her teeth to reign the panicked energy back inside.

They entered the farmhouse, and Alex grunted as she was tossed onto the ground. "Son of a …" With her grace back under control, the angel was able to push herself back to her feet, but a fist to the stomach sent her back onto the floor with a curse. A hand yanked her up by the hair, forcing her up against a wooden post, and within a second, her hands were bound.

The angel barely noticed, too focused on the rest of her companions. They were being tied up, just like her, stirring as they were forced to their feet. No one seemed injured, and her attention turned onto the ground in search of their weapons. Her angel blade lay at her feet, ripped from her grasp when she had been hogtied. "Sam." Alex snapped her grace against the Winchester's soul, waking him up with a start. Dean, one more pillar over, rolled his head back as he came back to the waking world.

"Well, hi, there, sunflower." A young, dark-haired girl came to stop in front of Sam, her slim fingers brushing across his chest. Sam's nostrils flared in offense, but the woman didn't seem to care. "It's all love, pretty boy," she promised. "All of you will become all of us. We won't waste one bit."

"Okay, Mufasa." Wood creaked as Dean tugged angrily at his bonds, and the woman's attention turned to him. "Enough with the 'Circle of Life' crap. You're a vampire." The woman hummed out her agreement as she crossed over to him, and Dean's eyes flashed. "You're scum. End of story —" He cut off in surprise as the vampire's fingers deftly undid his belt, and the Winchester scoffed. "Yeah, I'm not in the mood."

His quip got no response, and it was Jody who spoke up next. "Wait," she began scornfully, and Alex's eyes flickered over to her. "It's not enough that you kill people. You've got to rob them, too?"

"We scavenge," came the even, disinterested response. "We don't sip and go. We use every part of the buffalo."

Jody huffed. "And to think I gave you lunch money," she muttered, and Alex let her grace stretch out to loosen the bonds. Her gaze swept across the room, making a mental note of all the vampires that surrounded them. Five, not counting Len Cuse, who was hiding in the corner, eyes flickering around warily.

"But you came in time for dinner." The vampire's voice next to her ear had Alex jumping in surprise, and the angel squared her jaw until the vampire stepped away.

"Starr, please let them go." Len finally spoke, his voice on the verge of begging. "I helped you out. I-I ditched the video of Catfish killing that man."

Starr turned from Alex, and the corners of her lips turned up into a cold, amused smile. "We didn't want favors, Len," she purred. "We wanted you."

"What use am I now?" The sheriff moved forward from the shadows, eyes stretched wide as he looked over at the five captives. "I don't even kill people. I-I'm on bagged blood."

"Uh, beg your pardon?" Alex's eyes widened, surprised at Donna's audacity to speak out. "I saw you with your vampire face standing over Sheriff Goodhill." Her round face furrowed in anger, and Alex looked up at Sam with an amused grin; the look was reciprocated, and the angel turned back to Len.

The vampire was vehemently shaking his head. No, no, I-I-I found her," he insisted. "I-I s-smelled her blood. I couldn't help my — my fangs. But I didn't bite." His last sentiment was directed at Sam and Dean, but it was impossible to read their grim faces.

"Well, aren't you a hero," Dean replied, voice cold and even, and Len looked over at Sam in desperation.

"Can — can we just get this reunion going a bit faster?" Alex added. "Really, I — I'm getting bored over here, and trust me — you don't want to lose my interest. You." She jerked her chin towards Len. "How exactly do you know these freaks here? You, uh, break up Burning Man or something?"

"More like Woodstock." It was Starr who answered, displeased at Alex's interruption. "Len found me crying on the curb after my daddy kicked me out. I got in Len's van, and the rest is wavy gravy."

"So, what?" Jody asked. "Len's like your Charlie Manson?"

"Oh." Starr chuckled slightly, and she smiled over at Len, who stood stiffly in the dim candlelight. "Charlie couldn't hold a candle to Len. He taught us everything."

"Yeah." Dean scoffed loudly, and Alex heard the pillar creak again as he tested his bonds. "I'm sure it was all Kombucha and Kumbaya."

The vampire's voice grew sharp as her head snapped to face Dean. "Liberating is what is was," she retorted, and she turned back to the old sheriff. "And then one day, poof! Len's gone."

"Til he landed his photo in the paper," another vampire added, his voice deep with scorn and hatred. "Stupid."

"For running a retreat of all things." Starr shook her head in disgrace. "You didn't just go straight, you became a damn cop. Now, that is wild, man." She circled around Cuse, and the man stumbled as Starr shoved him forward to stand in front of the Winchesters. "Are you feeling dirty, Len? Cause we're about to have ourselves a bloodbath."

"And … my interest is gone." Alex let her grace flick through the air, and the lights flickered above their heads. She lifted her chin, letting her speech slip into a lazy, disinterested drawl as she finally let herself take control of the situation. "What do you guys think about Len?" She looked over at Sam and Dean, making sure to keep her movements slow and confident as she grinned. "Personally, I think he's likable. I vote we don't kill him."

Sam's brow momentarily furrowed, confused and displeased by Alex's sudden change in behavior, but Dean just shook his head. "Dude's a monster. We just don't let them walk cause they're likable."

"He says he's on bagged blood," the angel reminded. "We've let others off for less. Tell you what." She jerked her head towards the corner before locking eyes with Cuse. "Stand in the corner and we'll deal with you when this is over."

Len nodded, eager to prove his complaisance, but Starr scoffed loudly. "This is over when the five of you are dead." The vampire's fangs dropped, catching in the light, but Alex merely rolled her eyes at the show of intimidation.

"You, uh, you've heard of 'deus ex machina,' right?" Alex continued on as if the vampire had never spoken. "Basically, a bad situation, you in this case, is abruptly solved by the appearance of someone or something extremely powerful — me, in this case. You'll have to excuse me, though. Usually I have more patience for these types of evil rants, but I'm just really not feeling it all today."

A machete glinted in the light, and Starr stalked closer, slowly swinging the blade at her side. "Len taught us to use our food well, but honestly, there's just nothing on you to scavenge." She lifted the machete to Alex's throat, and the angel calmly quelled her grace when it jumped at the touch. "Maybe I'll just take off your head and we'll play it by ear."

Alex shrugged, ignoring how the blade shifted against her skin. "Might kill me," she admitted, looking over at Sam. "Course, you'd be dead before you took the swing, but that's a whole other can of worms."

"You done bragging yet?" Dean's tight voice had the angel rolling her eyes, and she let her grace snap out and undo the Winchester's bonds. She pulled her own hands free a second later as Starr spun around in surprise, and the angel reached over to touch Sam's ropes before she launched herself towards her weapon. She felt Sam spring away at the same time, and she rolled to her feet in time to shove her blade into the chest of a dark-skinned vamp.

He died in a flash of light, and the angel spun away. Dean was on his feet, a bloody machete in his hands as he charged one of his attackers, and Alex watched as Sam squared off with another.

A hiss had her spinning, searching for the source, and her eyes found Starr. The vampire was standing in front of Jody, fangs bared as the sheriff struggled at her ropes. Alex jumped forward, but Donna was faster. A machete sliced through the air, and Alex slid to a stop as Starr's head came to rest at her feet. "Hakuna matata, lady."

"Damn." Alex kicked the head away as she looked over at Dean to share his look of surprise. "I didn't even untie her. Jody's right; she's good." Dean grunted, and Alex turned to look at Sam, adding, "You doing okay?"

"I'm fine." The grim line on Sam's face said otherwise, but Alex let it slide.

"The heck was that?" The machete fell from Donna's hands as she motioned towards Alex, and the angel's head tilted, surprised by the sudden bout of anger. "What is that thing?"

Alex's gaze dropped down to her weapon, the silver bathed in blood. "Angel blade. What?" She narrowed her eyes as she looked between the two Winchesters, who were exchanging glances over her head. "Spit it out."

"Nothing." Sam shook his head, quick to diffuse the situation. "It's just … you were, uh, a little cocky back there, don't you think?"

"Especially considering how out of shape you are," Dean added, his humor unable to hide his frustration. "Next time, just get us out so we can kill them, okay?"

"Okay." Alex wrinkled her nose at his sharp tone, and she rolled her eyes after him as Dean walked away. "Asshole." The Winchester didn't retaliate, and she turned back to Donna, softening her eyes at the blonde's wide eyes. "Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah." The sheriff's voice quavered slightly, but she head her head steady. "Other than the feeling like I want to hurl, sure. I just … chopped off … a vampire's head."

"You were great at that," Jody promised, and she put a hand on Donna's shoulder as she led the way outside. Alex slipped past, making her way out of the building search of Sam and Dean.

"Knowing that these things are out there makes the world seem — I don't know — bigger," Donna added quietly. "Darker."

"You know …" Alex slowed her pace, turning her head back to look at the two sheriffs as they stepped out into the night. "If you need any sort of pointers on dealing with this type of crazy, just ask me or Jody."

She looked up at the Jody, and the woman nodded, adding. "Just give us a call, and we'll be willing to fill you in — you know, about what kills what. I've got a pretty good handle, but Alex here's been doing this for years. Hell, she's probably one of the best. Anything you need to know, she probably knows it."

Alex ducked her head at the praise. "I'm not that great," she murmured as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I had a good teacher, I guess." She lifted her gaze, grace rising to her eyes to peer through the darkness, and she cleared her throat at the sight of Sam and Dean standing beside the Impala. "Uh, excuse me. I'll be right back."

She hurried over to the Winchesters, ears perked to catch part of their quiet conversation. " — you know," Dean was saying, "for the first time I've been back, I didn't feel like the Mark was pushing me. All I know is, back there, killing those vamps … I felt like me again."

"Alright." Sam's hazel eyes flickered over to Alex, searching for any evidence of support on her face, but the angel kept her face as blank as possible. "Alright," Sam repeated. "So, that's … good, right? Maybe - maybe Crowley was right about, uh, you needing to kill."

Dean frowned, clearly hesitant to agree with Crowley's assessment, but, after a second, he nodded. "Yeah," he admitted, turning to Alex before any objections could come. "How about you? You good?"

"I'm great. This — this was a milk run. Save your concern for when something here can actually hurt me." The angel shrugged and pulled open the Impala's front door. "Oh, uh, hey. Since I've proven that I can take actually care of myself if I put my mind to it,, does this mean I'm unbenched?"

She watched as the two hunters exchanged glances over the top of her head. Sam shrugged, not willing to take a firm position, but Alex's eyes narrowed as Dean gave a small, barely perceptible shake of his head. However, all he said was, "Tell you what. We'll think about it." He nudged her into the car, and he lifted his voice so the other women could hear. "Come on, you two. Let's get out of here."


	10. The Things They Left Behind

**February 15th, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** lex's fist connected with the punching bag with a dull, dusty thud. The chain creaked above her head as the sand-filled bag swung away from the impact, and the angel fell back into a defensive posture as she waited for it to return. The bag swung back, and her arm went out, keeping her actions smooth and controlled as she sent her target spinning backwards once again.

The squeak of the gym floor had the angel freezing, a open palm going out to stop the bag's motion as her head snapped around in search of the sound's source. "You scared me." Alex turned to face Dean, reaching up to wipe the sweat from her temple as she regarded the Winchester with a curious frown. "What are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Dean folded his arms across his chest, his plain black shirt tight against his biceps as his gaze slid past her. "It's two in the morning. Why are you still up?"

"I couldn't sleep. And, unlike you, I don't really need to." Alex shrugged, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her oversized shorts. Her grace twisted inside her, eager to escape, and the angel thrust it back down beneath her soul. "I thought you said you'd gone to bed. What's the matter?" The tightness on Dean's face was all the answer she needed, and the girl ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah, uh, me too. Feel free to take a few swings. I've found I dream less if I work up a sweat."

"Maybe in a bit." Dean glanced back towards the door through which he had come. "The garage door's creaking again, so I figured I'd take a look. Fifty bucks it's the damn springs again."

Alex watched as he walked away, shaking her head once he had disappeared from sight. When the Winchester's footsteps had faded, she turned back to the punching bag, hands once again closing into fists as she rocked up onto the balls of her feet.

The rickey sound of the garage door came from behind her, but it was drowned out by the rhythmic creak of the punching bag and the thud of her blows. Time slowed, and soon all that existed was the white square on the bag in front of her. Left, right, left again. Two short punches in quick succession followed by a kick.

The ringing of her phone jolted her out of her rhythm, and the angel pulled back in surprise. Her phone lay against the wall, resting on the top of her soft sweatshirt, and Alex crossed the room to pick it up with a frown; who could be calling at this hour? "Hello?"

"Alex." Castiel's voice came through the line, and Alex dropped to the ground with a grin, twisting so she could lean up against the wall. "You sound out of breath. What's wrong?"

The angel chuckled. "Nothing. I'm just working out. Couldn't sleep." She shifted the phone to her other hand with a shrug as she cleared her throat. "Uh, what's up? You didn't answer my latest text."

"My apologies. I've been … busy." Hesitancy lined the seraph's voice, and Alex narrowed her eyes. "Actually, I'm wondering if you can do me a favor. I'm on my way to Pontiac, Illinois. Are you busy?"

"No. Things have been quiet, so I've been at the bunker all week." A loud crash came from down the hall, and Alex added, "Dean's even gotten around to doing chores. Why? You and Hannah still hunting down rogues?"

If Castiel picked up on the tinge of jealousy in her voice, it didn't show. "Hannah's gone. She returned to heaven and let Caroline return to her husband. I … I've been looking into Jimmy's family. I couldn't locate Amelia, but I think I've found Claire."

"Jimmy's daughter." Alex nodded as the name clicked into place. "Damn. She's got to be — what, sixteen, seventeen by now? How's she been?"

"She's currently registered at the Pontiac Juvenile Correctional Center for several accounts of shoplifting and petty theft." The displeasure in the seraph's voice was clear. "From what I understand, she's been in a group home since 2010."

Alex's eyebrows knit together in sympathy. "A group home? How? Is Amelia dead?"

"Not to my knowledge. But whatever has happened … I know that it's my fault. I should be the one to fix it." The seraph trailed off, and when he spoke again, his voice was brisker. "I'm going to speak with her tomorrow afternoon. I'd like you to be there. I feel you might be able to relate to her better than I can."

Alex snorted at her mate's words, but she managed to give a polite nod. "I'll see what I can do," she promised. "I'll get some sleep and head out tomorrow morning once Dean gets the garage door functioning again."

Her answered seemed to sate the seraph, and he sighed. "Thank you. Get here whenever you can. It will be good to see you again."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Alex pressed her head into the cool brick behind her with a smile. "If we're lucky, we'll be able to spend some good, old-fashioned quality time together." Her words were accompanied by a chuckle, and the angel sighed as yet another loud crash came from the garage. "I should go. I think Dean's going to need my help. I love you, okay? I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright. I love you too." Castiel hung up, and Alex pushed herself to her feet and shoved her phone into her pockets.

"Dean?" The angel lifted her voice as she exited the gymnasium, head tipped as she crossed the hall and ascended the stairs to enter the garage. "You okay?" she added as she slipped past the multitude of old, half-rusted motorcycles. The Impala sat a few feet away, its sleek paint glowing in the harsh light, and Alex turned her gaze further inwards.

"Hey." Dean popped up from behind an old green car, a screwdriver in his hands, and Alex's eyes traced up the old wooden ladder that lay off to his left. "Yeah, I'm fine. Son of a bitch's stubborn."

Alex took a moment to look up at the rails that traced the concrete ceiling, following them down to the heavy metal garage door. "Okay," she finally said. "Well, if you need anything, let me know. I think I'm going to go to bed. Cas called, by the way. He's in the Midwest, so I'm going to meet him in Pontiac tomorrow." She hesitated, and then added, "So make sure that thing opens, okay?"

"Okay." Dean grimaced, and he reached up to wipe the sweat from his brow. "I'll see what I can do."

"You do that. Night, Dean." Alex turned to go, but when Dean didn't return the farewell, she chanced a look back. The Winchester was standing there, his face unusually dark, and the young angel frowned. "Dean? You okay?"

"No. Uh, no, actually." The Winchester's green eyes sparkled nervously, but his words were firm with determination. "Pip. I need you to promise me something, alright?"

"Yeah, of course." Alex approached, unsure of what had the hunter in such a dark mood. "Anything."

"If … if I go dark side, because of the Mark, you got to take me out. Knife me, smite me. Throw me into the fucking sun, whatever." Dean circled around the car, and Alex lifted her chin to hold his gaze as he came to stop in front of her. "And don't let Sam get in the way, you hear? Because he'll try. I-I can't go down that road again. I can't be that thing again."

"Dean, I can't —"

"I need you to promise me. Sam, Cas — they wouldn't do it. They don't see me like you do — they didn't see me when I … when I was …" Dean's voice stuttered, and he shook his head. "They think they can save me, and they can't. Because if I go down that road again … I ain't coming back."

Silence fell, and Alex blinked to find tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. "I understand," she began, her voice a low murmur. "Okay, I … I promise. Only because it's never going to get that far. _I'm_ not going to let you go that far." Dean's jaw trembled slightly, and Alex reached up to cup his cheek, watching how the Winchester squeezed his eyes shut at the touch. "Whatever happens, it isn't you behind it, alright? It's the Mark." She felt him wince at her sharp tone, and the angel softened her voice. "Want me to see if I get my grace to help you sleep? You'll feel better in the morning."

"No." Dean pulled away with a shake of his head. "Uh, like I said, I got to get this door fixed. I'll sleep later."

"Alright. Call me if you need to talk. Crowley might not be here anymore, but I still got your back." No response came, and Alex stepped out to the garage to make her way down to the stairs. Her footsteps echoed through the empty halls, and the angel hurried off towards her room. Dean couldn't have been serious. She stepped into her room, closing the door quietly behind her as she flipped on the lights with a shake of her head. All he needed was a good night's sleep. Come morning, all of this will be forgotten.

...

 **A** lex pulled her Marquis up alongside the diner, frowning as the engine died. The neon letters on the side confirmed that this was the address Castiel had spoken of, and, with a shrug, the angel pulled the keys from the ignition and exited the car. Her feet carried her towards the building, and only once she had passed through the double doors did she let her grace sneak out.

Castiel sat at a table in the middle of the room; at the brush of her strange grace, he turned. "You're here." The seraph didn't rise from his seat, and Alex's gaze swept over to the blonde, sullen teenager that sat across from him. Castiel motioned over to the girl, and, with a smile, said, "You've met Claire."

"It's been a while." Alex crossed the room to stand at the seraph's side, smiling down at the blonde teen. "Claire Novak. I'm Alex. We met a long time ago."

"Yeah." Claire's voice was scathing, and Alex's lips pursed in a frown. "I remember." Her blue eyes dropped down to where Alex's hand was resting on Cas' shoulder, and the teen's gaze flashed with anger.

Alex quickly pulled away and sat down at the table, reaching over to pick a fry off of Castiel's plate. "I talked to your mom a few times after we met," she announced. "She stopped calling. Is she okay?"

"Don't know." The grim lines on Claire's face made it clear that her mother was a sore subject. "About a few months after you … she took off. Dropped me off at my grandma's and went to go 'find herself.' " The girl scoffed darkly. "I guess she's still looking."

"Claire's been in a group home since then," Castiel expounded. "I suppose the two of you have a lot in common."

Claire's eyes narrowed, clearly distrusting the seraph's assessment, and Alex grunted. "I suppose so," she agreed, and she turned her gaze over to Claire. "I lost my parents by the time I was twelve. Grew up in the system, going between foster homes. I know how difficult that type of life is."

"You don't know anything about me." The plate scraped against the table as Claire suddenly pushed her food away. "I appreciate the meal. And, you know, the felony." Alex threw a look over at Castiel, sharp with surprise, and the teen continued, "But you don't need to babysit me. I can take care of myself."

"What do you mean?" Castiel's question was slow and quizzical, unsure of what Claire was insinuating, and the blonde rolled her eyes.

"I mean you felt guilty, so you busted me out," she explained darkly. "So thanks, but we're good. Even Steven."

"No, we, umm …" Castiel hesitated before clearing his throat, "we committed a crime, and you might need me again. So I-I think we should stick together."

"I think we should stick together, too," Alex added through a tight frown, ending with another look towards her mate. _What the hell did these two do?_

To her surprise, Claire nodded after only a moment's glare, apparently unwilling to argue with both of them. "Okay," she reluctantly agreed, but despite the complacency in her voice, her blue eyes still glinted with disdain. "Fine, then. You want to get some stuff for the road? I have to pee."

She pushed herself to her feet, and Castiel did the same, bill gripped tightly in one hand. Their shoulders collided as they passed, and Claire muttered out an apology as she shoved her hands deep into her pockets. _Bullshit_. The chair squeaked against the tile floor as Alex rose to her feet, a hand flashing out to grab Claire's arm. "Give it back."

"What are you talking about?" Claire's eyes stretched wide in innocence, and Alex's fingers dug into the teen's leather sleeve.

"Alex." Castiel's hand came to rest on her shoulder, and the seraph stepped close as he tried to draw her away. "Let her go."

"Cas —" Alex turned around, eyes flashing, but the unusual firmness on his face had her cutting off in surprise. Claire ripped her arm free, and Alex let her go. "You're on her side?" Alex flung a hand off towards the disappearing teen, making sure to keep her voice low as not to cause a scene. "She — she totally just picked your pocket!"

The seraph frowned slightly, and his hands went up to feel his clothes. His frown deepened, and Castiel's search became more urgent as he searched the inner pockets of his coat. "How —"

"Because she's good. But I'm a hunter." Alex's stolen grace flared up in face of her anger, her grey eyes lightening to blue before fading away. "I don't — you sided with her over me?"

Castiel didn't respond, and Alex huffed as he rushed past her as he hurried towards the restaurant door. "Claire?" He stepped out into the parking lot, and Alex shoved her hands into her pockets as she followed. "Claire."

The teenager was standing in the road, waving down a white sedan. Tires squealed as the car stopped beside her, the windows rolling down so Claire could speak. The teen threw open the door and jumped inside, and Castiel's pace quicker into a jog as he rushed after his vessel's daughter. "Wait. Hey!" The car sped off down the road, and the seraph slid to a stop. "Claire!"

"Claire!" Alex lifted her own voice alongside her mate's futile call, and the seraph's shoulders fell as the car disappeared into the gathering night. "Cas. What the hell's going on?"

"I found Claire at the correctional center." Castiel shook his head, his gaze falling to the ground as he began his tale. "I tried to pose as her father and get her out, but the woman wouldn't let me take Claire back into my custody. So … I broke her out after hours." Castiel turned away from the road, his eyes dull with disappointment. "I just wanted to help her. After … after all that I've done to her."

Alex ran a hand down her face, wincing at the news. "Okay." She dug her teeth into her lips as she looked down the road. "So … are we going after her?"

"We should call Sam and Dean." The seraph fumbled around in his pocket for his phone, his clumsiness fueled by his haste, and Alex reached up to touch his blue-striped tie as he pressed the cell up against his ear. No one answered, and Castiel's lips pursed as he was sent to voicemail. "Dean." His voice was lined with urgency, and the young angel busied herself studying the strange new accessory. "I'm in Pontiac Illinois. I need you and Sam to meet me here."

He hung up, and Alex tugged the tie sharply. "You got a new one of these," she observed with a frown. "I like the old one better." A gust of wind stirred Castiel's hair, and Alex reached up to smooth it down. "The Winchesters won't be here until tomorrow afternoon. We should find some place to settle down for the night."

"Claire —"

"There's no way we're going to find Claire. Not tonight." Alex waved off towards the road with a shake of her head. "There's no one we can talk to, no one except the cops. Claire will be fine — if she ran out like that, there's someone she's intending to go to." She watched as the seraph's shoulders fell even further, and her hands moved away from the tie to rest on his chest. "Besides. I haven't seen you in a long time. It'll be good to spend the night."

She felt a hum of agreement rumble through Castiel's chest, reluctant at first, and the young angel fingered the hard edge of his shirt button until he nodded. "Okay," he relented. "I saw a motel down the road. We can wait for the Winchesters there."

...

 **T** he ringing of her phone startled her out of her sleep, and Alex groaned in surprise and frustration. She could feel Castiel below her, his bare chest warm against her cheek, and her eyes drifted closed in contentment. They snapped back open when her cell rang again, and the angel flung an arm off behind her in search of the small device.

Her palm brushed across the flat, smooth screen, and Alex took half a second to glance at the caller before she answered it. "What do you want?"

She felt Castiel shift beneath her, and she rolled over onto her back, tipping her head away so she could hear Dean's response. "What the hell? We called you three times last night. We're in Pontiac now."

"Sorry. I was busy." The young angel bit back a smile as Castiel moved after her, eyes half-closed as his arm curled across her stomach. "Where are you both at? We can meet you at Red Line's Diner on Mulberry in fifteen minutes."

"Is that Sam and Dean?" Castiel's words rumbled through his chest, and Alex pressed a finger up against his lips to quiet him.

"Sure. We'll be there in ten." If Dean had heard the seraph's voice, he didn't indicate it, and the line clicked as he hung up.

The phone fell from Alex's hands, and she turned to rest her lips against Castiel's hair. "We're meeting them back at the diner in ten minutes," she murmured, wrapping an arm around his warm neck. "You should go get dressed so we can leave."

The seraph's hands came up, fingers linking through hers as he tilted his head up to pressed his forehead against her lips. "I'm comfortable where I am." However, he pulled away a second later, and Alex rolled over onto the warm sheets as she listened to the seraph pull on his shirt. The bed dipped, and the young angel hummed in delight as Castiel's hands slid up her back to knead against her shoulders.

"Should we shower before we go?" she heard him ask, and with the greatest reluctance, Alex pushed herself up into a sitting position, twisting so she could swing her legs out over the side of the bed.

"We don't have time." She crossed over to her backpack, discarded against the far wall, and she dug out a change of clothes and slid on her jeans. "Besides, we showered last night," she added, threading her belt through its loops.

"I remember. You joined me."

Alex grinned at the memory, and she pulled a shirt on over her shoulders. "Oh yeah." Her attention turned to her shoes, and once she was dressed she shoved her phone and wallet into her pocket. Castiel was at her back, and the young angel leaned into him, reaching up to curl her fingers around the nape of his neck. "I remember that."

"You … you still have the same grace you did when we last met." Castiel stepped away, and Alex reached out to take his hand as he led the way out of the motel. "And last night, while you were sleeping, I … I couldn't help but think … that I had felt it before."

"That's because you have." Alex reached into her pocket and pulled out the keys to her car. "You …" she hesitated, taking her time to unlock the Marquis as she considered her next few words. "You remember Zuriel, right? We met him once when I first had become an angel."

"Ainael's son." Castiel slid into the seat next to her with a nod. "Yes. I remember now." His voice was soft with solemnity, and after a moment's pause he asked, "Did Crowley tell you how he got his grace?"

"No." Alex curled the grace tightly inside of her, keeping it out of sight. "Uh, all he said was that Zuriel was one of the angels who didn't want to return to heaven." The Marquis purred to life, and the young angel guided it out of the parking lot and down the road. "And your grace? Is it …"

"It's fading." The emotionless tone of Castiel's words had Alex glancing over at him; his eyes were trained out the window. "It will be gone within a few months I imagine."

"And then?"

"Most likely I'll die." This time, sorrow crept into his voice, and Castiel reached over to take Alex's hand from where it rested on the gearshift. "I can't bring myself to take another's grace again, and after all that I have done … perhaps this is what I deserve."

Alex scoffed, and she turned the car into the Red Line's parking lot. "It's not." She roughly through the car into park and yanked the keys free, and Castiel frowned as she slammed the door behind her. "And it's not what I deserve, you leaving me again."

Castiel followed more slowly, carefully closing the door behind him. "Everyone dies. I won't let any more die for my cause, even if it means that I must give my own life." He circled around stand at her side, and when Alex leaned her head into his shoulder, the seraph pressed his lips up against her temple. "I won't go looking for death, but if it comes for me, I won't cheat it again."

The sleek black paint of the Impala rolled into view, and Alex lifted her head to watch Dean step out. Sam followed close behind, his brow knit tightly in concern, and the young angel flashed him a quick smile. "Hey. You guys made good time."

"Yeah." Dean brushed off her greeting, his green eyes locked on Castiel. "Well? You said this was important. What's going on?"

"It's Claire. Claire Novak," the seraph expounded. "My vessel's daughter. I … I tracked her down to Pontiac, and I helped her escape from the group home where she was staying, but she …" Castiel's eyes flickered to the ground as his face tightened. "She ran away. I don't know where she went."

Silence followed his words, each of the brothers waiting for something more to come, but when Castiel didn't continue, Dean frowned. "This is why you called us?" he snapped, and his arms folded across his chest as his voice deepened. " _This_ is your emergency?"

"Yes!" Castiel met Dean's exclamation with one of his own, just as sharp.

"No, Cas! An emergency is a dead body, okay? Or — or a wigged-out angel, or the Apocalypse, take three. Some chick bolting on you is not an emergency." He looked over at his brother, and his face lightened ever so slightly as he joked, "That's … that's every Friday night for Sam."

The taller hunter's lips pursed at the joke made at his expense. "Dude."

Dean shrugged, mouth half-open to crack another witty reply, but Castiel was faster. "This isn't just 'some chick,' " he retorted, and Alex squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I'm responsible for her."

"Since when?" The Winchester scoffed. "You met her once, how many years ago?"

"Hey, hey." Alex dropped her mate's hand and stepped forward, one hand going out to try and release the tension in the air. "Calm down, alright? You're already here, so just help us find the kid. It's important."

"Yeah, of course. It's just …" Hesitancy lined Sam's voice, and after a moment's pause, he added, "Look, Cas. Even if do find Claire … then what?"

"She rolled you, and then she ran, okay? It's pretty clear that she doesn't want to play house." Dean looked between the two angels, and Alex shifted back to stand at Castiel's side. "It's one thing to show up wearing her dad, but to show up wearing her dad with another women? I mean, come on."

Castiel's gaze flitted over to Alex before falling away. "I understand," he agreed. "But I need to know that Claire is safe. And I need your help."

There was a pause, and then Sam nodded. "Alright. Uh, why don't Alex and I go ask around the group home? You two can stay here in case Claire circles back." He waved Alex forward, and the young angel dug into her pockets for the keys to her Marquis. "I'll drive."

"Sure thing." Alex tossed the keys over her shoulder as she strolled passed; the sudden muffling of the metallic clang signaled the Winchester had caught them. "I'll pull up a map." She threw open the door and slid inside, twisting to dig her phone out of her pocket as Sam circled around to the driver's side door. The car started, and Alex waved goodbye to Castiel as Sam drove the car off towards the road.

...

 **A** warm breeze swept through the parking lot as Alex stepped out of the car to walk alongside Sam. They had stopped to change along the the way, and the Winchester now wore brown pants and a button-up sweater over his shirt and tie. Alex tugged on the sleeve of her own blue sweater, pulling up her forearm in an attempt to escape the material's warmth. "Stop," Sam chided, and the angel shoved the sleeves back down to her wrist. "It's unprofessional."

Alex stuck out her tongue, but instead of answering, she merely cleared her throat. "Alright. According the website, the woman in charge is Mrs. Sandy Kelline," she announced as she shoved her phone down into her pocket. "I'll let you take the lead."

Sam pulled open the front door for her, and Alex nodded her thanks as she stepped inside, reaching down to make sure she had her identification tucked in her pants. "Uh, hi." Sam approached the front desk, smiling over at the receptionist as he pulled out his leather wallet to produce a fake license. "I'm Dr. Aldrich, Child Services, this is Detective Marsden with the city police. We're here about one of your teens: Claire Novak. Is the home's director available to speak with us?"

The woman at the desk looked between the two of them, but there was no skepticism in her gaze. "I'll call Mrs. Kelline," she promised as she reached for the phone. "If the two of you want to have a seat, I'll let you know when she's available."

"Thank you." Alex crossed the room and sat down in one of the metal chairs, folding her legs together as Sam sat at her side.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Sam's voice was a murmur, and Alex looked over at him in surprise. She nodded, and the Winchester's lips set into a fine line. "It's about Dean. And the Mark."

Alex toyed with the sleeves of her cardigan as she frowned. "I told you everything Crowley told me, Sam. I don't know what else I can do."

"Yeah, I know, I know, it's just ..." The hazel-eyed hunter drew in a hesitant breath. "Isn't there something we can do? I know he won't admit it, but there's something wrong. He's not ... he's not Dean."

"He _is_ Dean. The Mark's put a lot of stress on him, and he's just dealing with it best he can." Alex shrugged. "And if that means he has to hunt until he drops, then so be it. Better he blows off steam killing monsters than people."

Sam's eyes darkened at her last comment, but before he could speak, a door opened across the room.

"Dr. Aldrich and Marsden." A middle-aged blonde stepped into view, brown eyes peering at the pair over dark-rimmed glasses. "I'm Sandy Kelline. I believe you wanted to speak to me about Ms. Novak?"

"Uh, yes." Sam rose to his feet, hand extending out as he crossed the room to shake the woman's hand. "Do you have a moment? We won't take long."

"Not a problem." Sandy waved the two of them through the door and down the hall. "I'm afraid Claire isn't here right now," she began, her words tight with frustration. "Can I ask what this is about?"

"She's not here?" Alex feigned surprise, tucking her hands into her pockets as they turned into Mrs. Felline's office. "The local PD says they brought Claire here yesterday after an incident at a department store." She sat down in the chair next to Sam at the woman's request and watched as Sandy sighed.

"Claire's a good kid, detective." Sandy held out a folder to Sam, who curiously flipped through the pages. "She's smart, and underneath it all, she has a good heart." The woman sat down in her chair, adding, "You know, there used to be a boy here. Dustin Tate. He was older, but Claire really took him under her wing."

Alex exchanged a look with Sam, eyebrows lifted curiously. "Is he still around?" Sam asked, passing the folder over to Alex, and the angel turned her attention down onto the papers in her hands. Information about Claire's background, multiple reports about delinquent behavior.

She glanced up in time to see Sandy shake her head. "He works at the Weiner Hut," she explained before she sighed. "We tried to place Claire, but she always ran away. Sometimes for a couple of days, once for six months."

"Wow." Sam's brow lifted in surprise. "Where does she hide out?"

"Wish I knew." The woman shrugged in almost a defeated manner. "If the two of you find her, will you bring her back? She's still only seventeen."

"Of course." Alex have a curt nod, and she placed Claire's folder back onto the desk. "Did Claire have any more friends outside of this center? Anyone you can think of who she might have gone to."

"The only one who she really spoke with was Dustin. If you can find him, he might be able to tell you more. If there's anything else..."

"You've been a great help." Sam rose to his feet, adjusting the creases in his shirt as he did so. "And we'll be sure to let you know once we've located her."

Relief danced in the woman's eyes, and she smiled. "Thank you."

Sam led the way out of the office, and Alex fell in step at his side, reaching down to roll up the sleeves of her sweater as soon as they stepped out into the parking lot. "Okay, so next step is to find this Dustin Tate." She dug her phone out of her pocket, adding, "You call the Weiner Hut, and I'll update Dean and Cas."

"Sounds like a plan. We can meet back at your hotel room."

"Perfect." Alex tugged at the hem of her sweater with a scowl. "I need to get out of this thing." She looked over to see Sam on his phone, and she quickly dialed Cas' number as well.

The phone rang once, and then twice, and then the link beeped as the seraph answered. "Alex. What have you found?"

"A lead, hopefully." Alex slid into the Marquis and slammed the door behind her. "Claire had one good friend here; a guy named Dustin Tate. He doesn't live there anymore, but we know he works at the local Weiner Hut. Sam's calling them now to find out more."

"And they think Claire is with him." The question came out more like a statement, and Alex shrugged.

"Dunno. All we were told was that he was the best place to start. I, uh, I got a look at Claire's file, though." Alex reached for her seatbelt, hesitating as she considered how much she wanted to say. "Dude, she's been in a lot of shit. Mostly petty theft, but still. That stuff can escalate. Fast."

Silence met her words, and Alex shifted the phone to her other hand as Sam hung up and started the car. "I know," Castiel finally said. "That's why I need to find her."

"Alright. Well, Sam and I are heading back to our motel room. You two can meet us there and we'll tell you more."

A tap on her shoulder had the angel looking up. "The manager at the Weiner Hut says that Dustin's working tonight at eight," Sam informed her, and Alex gave a nod off understanding.

"You hear that?" she asked her mate on the other end. "Dustin's work the late shift tonight that starts at eight. We'll talk to him then."

"Okay." The plan seemed to date some of the seraph's unease, and he let out a deep breath. "Dean and I will meet you at the room. We'll speak then." When Alex agreed, Castiel hung up with a click, and Alex dropped her phone in between her knees as Sam turned her car out onto the street.

...

 **T** he air had lost its warmth by the time the sun had set, and Alex pulled the sleeves of her jacket down, thankful that she has changed back at the motel. The crisp scent of impending rain hung on the streets, and the angel looked longingly towards the brightly-lit door of the Wiener Hut through which Dean had disappeared mere seconds before. She could sense the warm food inside, a mouth-watering smell that almost masked the dampness, but her hand stayed resolutely entwined with Castiel's. "He should be here soon." She glanced up at the seraph, whose eyes were fixed on the dark sidewalk ahead. "You know what you're going to say?"

"Yes." Something flickered in his eyes, and Castiel suddenly dropped her hand. "Someone's coming." He tipped his head behind them, indicating the direction of the stranger's approach, and Alex pressed her shoulder into the concrete outcropping that hid them from view.

Sam stepped out, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, shoulders slumped more than usual to disguise his intimidating height. "Dustin Tate?" he asked, and Alex carefully stretched out her grace to feel the soul in question.

"Nah, man," came the disinterested response; the slightly cracking of the voice indicated it's owner was young, a theory confirmed as the teen stepped into view.

"Oh really? Sam put a hand on Dustin's jacket, holding him tight, and Castiel stepped out from the shadows, blue eyes glowing in the neon light.

"Yes, you are." The seraph grabbed the back of Dustin's jacket and pulled him away from Sam, and the teen's back hit the brick wall with a thud as Castiel spun them around. "And you're going to tell me where Claire Novak is." Dustin struggled, his actions futile against the angel's strength, and Castiel shifted his grip to the teen's neck as he lifted him from the ground. "Now."

Alex heard a chuckle from behind her, and she turned to see Dean, cheeks bulging from the remains of a hotdog. "I'd do as he says," he joked around his full mouth, and Sam pursed his lips at the bad manners..

Dustin gasped, clawing at Castiel's wrists, and Alex stepped forward, laying a hand on her mate's shoulder. "Put him down and let him get some air," she suggested. "He can't talk if he can't breathe."

Dustin nodded enthusiastically with her words, and Castiel let him fall back to the ground. "I-I — who are you?" he gasped out between ragged breaths. In response, the seraph reached down to haul Dustin to his feet, and the teen's eyes stretched wide in fear. "Okay, okay! Claire's on her way to the Gas N' Sip on Midland. This guy — Randy — he needed the money, and she's the only one who can do it."

"Now?"

"Y-Yeah!" Dustin's brown eyes stretched wide as he tried to peer around the seraph, searching for help from the others. "R-right now. I swear."

Castiel dropped the teen, and Dustin scurried away, giving the four of them a wide berth before rushing into his workplace. Alex watched him go with a small shake of her head before she turned to look up at her mate. "Well?" she asked. "What's your plan?"

The seraph didn't answer her instead turning his attention onto Sam and Dean. "The Midland Gas N' Sip," he repeated. "How far is that from here?"

"Uh, not far." Sam looked over at his brother, who merely shrugged. "I think we actually passed it on the way here."

"Take me there." Their shoulders brushed as Castiel moved towards, the car, and Alex shifted away with a frown as the seraph disappeared into the shadows. With a shrug up at Sam, she followed.

The seraph was already in the car by the time Alex caught up, and his gaze turned onto her when she slid in at his side. The Winchesters followed suit, and the Impala purred to life. "Midland's to the right," Alex announced, eyes rolling upwards as she thought. "You know where you're going?"

"Yup." Dean guided the car out of the parking lot, one hand resting on the bench seat as he looked out the back window. His eyes passed over Castiel, and as he turned back, he added, "You know what you're going to do if we find her there?"

"No. Not at all." Castiel's face was grim, and Alex leaned over to momentarily rest her cheek up against his shoulder. When the seraph's stiff posture didn't break, she pulled away and turned her gaze out to the road.

Like Sam had said, the Gas N' Sip on Midland was not far from the Weiner Hut, and within a few minutes, the angel could see the neon sign above the buildings. The parking lot was quiet, and Castiel shifted impatiently as Dean pulled the Impala up into the alleyway behind the gas station. "Well, there's no cops." Alex broke the silence as the engine died, and she looked over at her mate. "That's a good sign." She reached for the door handle, ready to get out, but a firm hand on her shoulder had her passing.

Castiel gave a small shake of his head, and when the young angel narrowed her eyes, he spoke so all could hear. "Stay here. I'll go in alone." He stepped out of the car, and after a second, Alex let go of the door.

"And … we're trusting him to go in by himself?" she heard Dean mutter to his brother, but a tight frown from Sam had him shutting up. Alex stepped out of the car, shivering at the cool night air as she quietly shut the door behind her. Her grace stretched out, searching for her mate, but the seraph was out of reach, and she quickly drew it back in, afraid of over-extending and losing control.

Suddenly the back door flew open, and Alex jumped in surprise, fingers instinctively wrapping around the handle of her weapon. The dark, broad shape of Castiel stepped into view, dragging the thinner form of a woman behind him, and Alex lifted her chin as Sam and Dean stopped at her side. She watched as Claire ripped herself from Castiel's grasp, and the seraph's voice deepened in frustration. "Claire, wait!"

"Screw you."

"Whoa, hey, Miley Cyrus." Dean stepped forward to the hood of the car, hands shoved into his jacket pockets as he confronted the teen. "Settle."

Claire scoffed as he looked the Winchester up and down. "Eat me, Hasselhoff."

Dean's eyes widened at the insult, head recoiling slightly in surprise, and Alex squared her jaw. The darkness in Sam's eyes echoed her sentiment, and he cleared his throat. "Claire, hold on a second. Look, my name's —"

"Sam," Claire finished before jerking her chin towards Dean. "And you're Dean. We've met, remember?"

"Claire." Castiel's sharp, incredulous voice had the teen spinning to face him. "You were going to _rob_ that convenience store?"

"So?"

"So?" The seraph looked over at Alex, searching for help as he repeated the scornful word. "So … it — it's wrong!"

Claire followed Castiel's gaze, and anger flashed in her blue eyes. "You want to talk to me about wrong?" she fumed, stalking up to stare the angel in the face. "You — you killed my dad. Is that 'wrong' enough for you? You killed him, and you took his body a-and slept with that whore —"

"Hey, hey — that's enough." Alex's grace spilled upwards, her eyes flashing blue in the dim light, and she stepped forward to stand at Castiel's side. "He didn't kill your dad, alright?"

"Really?" Claire's jaw trembled, but it didn't quench the anger in her glare. "Because without you — without any of you, he'd still be here. And my mom would still be around."

Castiel's shoulders fell, and he took a step forward. "Claire, I'm —"

"Don't!" The barrel of a gun flashed through the night as the teenager drew it from her pocket, and the seraph halted his advance. Alex heard the hammer click as she drew it back, and she shifted forward, ready to intervene.

Castiel, however, kept her back, stretching out an arm to rest across her chest. "That won't hurt me."

His tone was soft, regretful even, but it only had Claire's face hardening. "Fine." The gun spun around to point at Sam and Dean, and the two Winchesters' hands went up as they stuttered in densive surprise. "What?" the teen taunted. "Like you don't have it coming? You stood there while this monster took my dad." The gun quavered and then dropped away, and Claire turned back to Castiel, her bravado gone. "I used to pray to you, Castiel. Every night. I would _beg_ you to bring him home safe."

The seraph's eyes fell to the ground, and his words were barely audible. "I know."

"You know …" Claire's voice trembled. "My father was a good man. In what messed up world does he have to die and you get to live?"

"I'm sorry."

Alex reached up to soothe her mate, but Claire scoffed at the apology. "No," she retorted. "You feel guilty. There's a difference."

"Okay, so then what's your plan?" Alex stepped forward, shielding her mate from the angry teen, and Claire glowered up at her. "Are you going to go running back to Randy? You know, they guy that you steal for?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Dustin." Alex spit out the name, and she felt Castiel put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Claire! That man is using you — can't you see that?"

"He was there for me! When things got bad — and they got _real_ bad — he was there when no one else was. _He's_ my family! And you're just …" Claire's blue eyes slid past Alex to rest on Castiel's face. "You can go to hell." The teenager stalked away, leaving the four of them alone in the alleyway, and Alex's shoulders fell as she turned to look up at her mate.

"Nice going, Pip." Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. "Smooth as always." He grunted when Sam elbowed him sharply, but he didn't give up his scathing remark. "Hey, why don't you try not pissing people off next time?"

"Shut it, Whorechester.."Alex glared over at Dean, unsurprised to find her tight-lipped expression echoed on their faces. "Maybe we should go out and get some drinks." Her face softened as she looked back at Castiel, and her voice lowered. "I think we need them."

...

 **A** lex held open the bar door to let Castiel inside, slipping in after him as the Winchesters followed close behind. The seraph paused at the bar, mouth half-open as the bartender looked at him expectantly, and Dean patted the angel on the back as he sat down in one of the stools. "Four whiskeys," he ordered, and Castiel dropped down into the seat next to him.

His head hung despairingly, and Alex reached over to gently rub the back of his neck as she sat between him and Sam. "Hey, it's okay," she murmured, fingertips massaging the tense muscle. "This isn't your fault. Claire was —"

"Claire was right." The seraph's head turned so he could look Alex in the eyes. "Who am I to tell her how to live her life?"

"Well, somebody needs to." The bartender returned with their drinks, and Dean took a sip of his. "It's not like we're talking about Mother Teresa here. The girl about knocked over a Gas n Sip. She's got issues."

"Because of me," Castiel added sourly, and Alex looked over at Dean, eyes stretched wide in a plea for him to reason with her mate.

Dean just shrugged, "Well, like I said, you _are_ wearing her old man's meat suit. Probably didn't help."

Alex squared her jaw, and she looked back to see Sam slowly shaking his head. "Dude." Alex turned back to the short-haired hunter with a sharp glare. "Really? He's just trying to make it up to her, you know?"

"I … I don't think he can." Sam ran a hesitant hand through his hair as Castiel turned to look at him. "I mean, Jimmy was her father, and to some people, that … that's everything, you know?"

The seraph shook his head. "No, I don't. I never knew my father. He was distant, to say the least." He looked over at Dean, and his fingers toyed nervously with his whiskey glass as he asked, "What about you? Did you love your father?"

Dean looked over at his brother above the two angels' heads, and his green eyes grew distant as he took another sip of his drink. "With everything I had."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, his voice momentarily catching in his throat. "Yeah. I mean, it wasn't always easy, but yeah."

Alex looked between the brothers, her interest piqued at the new topic. "I mean, look," Dean began, "John Winchester's not going to win any 'Number One Dad' awards, you know? But you know … damn if he wasn't there when we needed him."

"Hey, uh, did we ever tell you about that time in New York?" It took Alex a second to realize that Sam was speaking directly to her, and she quickly shook her head. "Tell them about New York."

"Oh yeah." Dean chuckled quietly. "Yeah, okay. So, uh … we were working this haunting in Long Island, and me and Sam begged the old man to let us go into the city for once."

"He had this thing about New York, right?" Sam added, eagerly cutting into his brother's retelling. "Too big, too loud, too dirty."

"Yeah, and he hated the Yankees," Dean finished, and Sam agreed with an enthusiastic nod. "Somehow we convinced him to let us go. So, we all go. We all, you know, see all the sights, and, uh, ride the subway, eat too much pizza. The whole nine. Well, by about midnight, Sam and Dad are zonked, and I figured … screw it. I'm going to CBGB."

Sam reached past Alex to tap Castiel on the shoulder, and the seraph turned politely. "So," Sam began to explain, "CBGB is —"

The seraph politely cut him off. "I know. It's where The Ramones and Blondie got their start."

Sam's eyebrows lifted, taken aback by Castiel's obscure knowledge, and both he and Dean exchanged a quick glance. "Wow." Sam shifted on his stool, and after a second, he continued, "Anyways, he was _way_ underage at the time." He motioned back to his brother, and Dean's grin grew.

"Alright, so I get there. I sneak in, and it is _nuts_. I mean, people are drinking and they're smoking and they're — they're snorting whatever. There's a five-hundred pound guy on stage with a mohawk just screaming. And, uh, my mind is blown. I don't even know what to do. Then this girl walks up to me and she says, 'Hey, why don't you come over here and sit down with me and my friends at our table?' Alright!"

"Yeah, and they get him drunk," Sam put in, and Dean laughed. "First time."

"But not fun drunk." Dean grimace slightly at the memory. "I'm not quite sure what was in that stuff, but the room starts to spin, and I feel like I'm gonna puke … forever. And right about that time, I hear him. 'Dean Winchester!" He grinned, and Alex looked over to see a similar smile on Sam's face. "My old man. I don't know how, but he found me. And now I'm really freaking out, because he's just standing there, not saying anything. I look around, and everybody else is freaking out, too. In fact, nobody's even looking him in the eye. And finally, this one guy with, like, a safety pin through his nose and a-a _Kill Everything_ tattoo looks up and he says, 'Sorry sir.' " Dean shook his head, his grin never fading. "Yeah. 'Sorry, sir.' " He lifted his shot glass in something akin to a toast. "To John fucking Winchester."

He and Sam both lifted their drinks to their lips, and Alex slowly did the same, letting the bitter liquid slide down the back of her throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Castiel slam back his drink, and she took another swallow before she set her glass down. "He saved you," she heard her mate murmur.

"Yeah, and you know what he got for that? Me whining about how much he embarrassed me. Me telling him that I hated him. But then he stopped and turned around and he looked at me and he said, 'Son, you don't like me? That's fine. It's not my job to be liked.' "

" 'It's my job to raise you right.' " Sam finished alongside his brother, and Dean nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "And he did. What about you?" He motioned to Alex, and the young angel's head snapped up in surprise. "What about your old man?"

"My dad?" Alex tapped the rim of her glass as she ran a hand down her jawline. "Uh, for the first few years of my life, he was my everything. My mom wasn't around much," she added, well aware her current company knew what she meant, but she explained anyways. "She was always so sick, but my dad … he was there for the both of us. After my mom died, I thought he'd left, but … I guess he was just looking out for me. Just like he always did."

She could feel the looks of confusion above her head, and she threw back the rest of her drink as the bartender returned with the bottle of whiskey. "He was a good man," she finished. _I'm glad I didn't kill him._

She looked over at Castiel to see that the seraph's gaze was on his refilled drink. "Do you think Claire is in trouble?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "She's hanging with a guy named Randy," he reminded. "She's in trouble."

Castiel fell silent again, and Alex reached over to place her hand on his knee. "Okay," she decided. "So how do we find Randy? Dustin didn't give us an address."

"Give me a few minutes." Sam's brow knit together as he thought, and he slipped out of his stool. "Let me see what I can find, alright?" He patted Castiel on the shoulder when the seraph nodded, and Alex watched him disappear towards the other side of the bar, his phone in his hands.

"He'll find something." Alex squeezed her mate's knee reassuringly, and with her free hand, she took a sip of her whiskey. After a second, Castiel did the same, and Alex pulled back to rest her elbows on the table. "Sam always does."

...

 **T** rue to her word, Sam had an address in fifteen minutes, and within half an hour, the Impala was pulling up alongside a two-story suburban house. There were two cars parked on the curb outside, and Dean guided the Impala into the driveway before he removed the keys from the ignition. "This it?"

"Uh, yeah. This is the place," Sam confirmed, and he climbed out of the car. "Cas, you want to take the lead?"

The seraph nodded, joining him out on the street, and Alex reached back to make sure her weapons were in place before she followed suit. Both Winchesters had their guns drawn, and after a moment's thought, the young angel drew hers as well. She fell in line behind the three men, taking up the rear as her grace snapped forward towards the house. There were souls, more than five, but no monsters.

Castiel rang the doorbell, and Alex's grace rose to her ears. She could hear screaming, muted by the walls, and her shoulders tensed in alarm. _Claire?_ "Cas," she hissed. "Listen." She watched as the angel paused, muscles tense, and the minute the door opened, his hand went up. Grace spilled outwards, and the human flew back in surprise, crashing into the wall. Castiel stalked forward, and the Winchesters rushed in after him, weapons raised as they confronted the men inside.

Alex followed, her own grace snapping out to knock the stunned man unconscious. "Don't!" she heard Sam snapped, followed by Dean's more calm, "Back it up."

"Where's the girl?" Castiel demanded. His question was answered almost immediately by another scream, and Alex circled into the living room just in time to see her mate rush up the stairs.

She turned her gun onto the four men, head tipping curiously as she regarded the strangers. "Alright. Which one of you is Randy?" She motioned towards one of the bald men, indicating that he should be the one to answer, and the man's gaze flickered down to the stranger bound in a wooden chair. "Ah. Must be you." Alex pursed her lips as she looked the guy up and down; greying hair, thick glasses. Definitely the pervy type.

Her guess was confirmed by footsteps on the stairs, and she stepped back to make room for Castiel and Claire. The teen was half-clinging to the seraph, her shirt torn and jacket missing, and her jaw trembled as her gaze came to rest on the older man. "Randy."

The man's gaze dropped to the ground, and Dean motioned towards the door with the muzzle of his gun. "Get her out of here," he ordered, and Sam echoed his sentiment. Castiel and Claire hurried past, and Dean pointed to Sam and Alex. " _Go._ "

Alex nodded, hurrying after her mate, but the sound of shuffling feet had her spinning back around in time to see one of the unbound men stepping forward. "Hey!" Dean snapped as Sam brushed past Alex on his way out of the house. "Back up! Back up. Don't be as dumb as you look." He shifted back towards Alex, and the man hesitated when Dean adjusted his grip on the gun.

Alex stepped out of the house, clearing her weapon as she hurried down the porch steps after Sam. "Okay, Dean," she started, turning to address the Winchester who was supposed to be right behind her, but the slamming off the front door had her turning around in surprise. "Dean?"

She could hear Sam and Castiel by the car, speaking in hurried, whispered voices, and she looked back to see them already in the Impala; Claire had her head tucked into Castiel's chest, whose arm was wrapped around her protectively. Her eyes met Sam, and she saw his lips move in an unheard question.

However, the shouts of rage and anguish from inside the house had her turning away. "Shit," she cursed, and her feet carried her back up the stairs and to the front door. "Dean!"

Car doors slammed as Sam and Castiel jumped out, and Alex threw her weight against the door, grace fueling her strength until the door splintered and buckled beneath her weight. "Dean!" The angel almost slipped in a puddle of blood, and she cursed as she regained her footing. "Shit! Dean?" The angel hurried down the hall and into the living room, pulling up short in disgust. The stench of blood was everywhere, and Alex's nose wrinkled as she counted the bodies. One, two … three, four, five. None of them were Dean.

A scream came from behind her, high-pitched with terror, and she whipped her head around to see Claire turning to hide her head in Castiel's chest. The seraph held her close, his own eyes wide at the masacre, and Alex turned back to the scene. Dean was kneeling in the midst of it all, a bloody knife in his hand, and Alex shifted out of the way as Sam barreled through to drop down in front of his brother. "Dean? Dean, hey!" He took Dean's face in his hands, forcing the hunter to look up into his eyes. "Tell me you had to do this."

"I didn't … I didn't mean to."

"No." Sam's grip tightened on his brother's face as his voice cracked with effort. "Tell me it was them or you!"

"Cas. Take Claire outside." Alex slipped past the mutilated body and crouched down in front of Dean, gently nudging Sam aside with an elbow. "Hey. Dean, look at me." She waited until Dean's green eyes lifted to meet her own, cupping his cheek to guide his head when it moved too slow for her liking. "Hey," she repeated. "Focus." Her free hand went out to cover the Mark; it burned at the touch, but she refused to let go. "You need to fight this, Dean. Fight it with me." Her grey eyes turned to Sam, and her voice sharpened. "Go start the car. We need to leave."

Sam hesitated, torn between following her lead and staying with his brother, but eventually, he complied. "Okay. Hurry up." He pushed himself to his feet and hurried away, carefully skirting the bodies, and once he was out of sight, Alex let her hands fall away.

She could see the shudder that passed through Dean's body as his eyes turned onto the massacre around him. "I didn't …" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't. Come on." Alex nudged him to his feet, carefully prying the knife out of his white knuckles. Her grace snapped out, and the fireplace exploded into flames. Dean didn't flinch, and he followed Alex out of the house with no question, leaving the living room to burn. He climbed into the front of the Impala, and Alex slid in behind him; the moment he was situated, she leaned forward, wrapping a hand around his temple and pulsing her grace in.

Dean slumped back, unconscious, and Sam spared her a look as he backed the car out of the driveway; Alex couldn't tell if it was one of relief or dismay. "Did he … did he …"

"He didn't tell me anything." Alex gave a quick shake of her head, careful of what she wanted to reveal with Claire sitting next to her. "I know he's been having a hard time, but I … I didn't think it was that bad." She dropped her head into her hands, leaning forward to rest her forehead against the back of the front seat. "We can't keep him like this, guys. The Mark needs to go. No matter the cost."

...

* * *

 **I don't know if it's the season or the workload from college, but this season/installment has felt pretty directionless and boring. I don't really like this as a stopping point, so I might just post two more chapters and then take the mid-season break there while I finish everything up.**

 **Honestly, I'm sort of just pushing through it until Lucifer comes back. Thanks for sticking with me!**


	11. The Hunter Games

**Bonus chapter! Seriously, I completely forgot about this one and proof-read and prepared to post the one after this instead before I realized my mistake. Whoops!**

 **...**

* * *

 **February 18th, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **T** he bedroom was dark, the only light coming a dim lamp in the corner of the room. Alex sat at the foot of the bed, perched backwards in a chair as she stared at the unmoving body of Dean Winchester. They had been back at the bunker for almost two hours, having driven straight back from Pontiac, Illinois.

He should be waking soon.

The angel shifted uncomfortably on the wooden seat, drawing her legs up so she was crouching on it, arms resting on the wooden back. "Dean." She spoke the hunter's name, reaching out with her grace; with a twinge of frustration, she recognized it was beginning to wear thin. She probed at Dean's soul, adding. "Come on, wake up."

The Winchester stirred, eyes flickering open, and Alex stilled, not wanting to startle the hunter to violence. She watched as he reached up to run a hand down his face, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows. "You."

"How are you feeling?" Alex lifted her chin from her forearms as she met Dean's gaze. "I'm sorry I knocked you out, but I couldn't risk any more unpredictability. And with Claire in the car …"

Dean groaned loudly, and he swung his legs over the side of his bed as his head dropped into his hands. "Right." He fell silent, fingers digging into his scalp, and Alex waited until he spoke again. "Uh, right. I get it." He lifted his head, and the young angel shifted slightly at the intensity in his gaze. "And Sam …?"

"Sam's in the library. He's looking for a way to remove the Mark — we all are." She paused and lowered her voice, adding, "Dean. None of us blame you for what happened. I know that's something you wouldn't do."

"Yeah, well, I did it." Dean pushed himself to his feet, and his nails dug into his forearm as he angrily scratched at the Mark. Blood welled up under his fingernails, and Alex was at his side in an instant, palm clamping over the Mark as her other hand grabbed his free wrist. Dean recoiled in surprise, and the angel tightened her grip, refusing to let him pull away. "I want it off."

"You can't get it off that way." Alex's grace slipped forward, healing the superficial wounds. "But we'll figure something out. Come on. You're not confined to your room, so you can come on out and get something to eat."

She turned, hands falling away from Dean, but the Winchester grabbed her, his calloused fingers closing around her wrist. "Wait." The intensity in his tone had the angel turning back. "I need you to do something for me."

"If you're going to ask me to kill you, the answer's no." Alex's voice was flat as she sized up the hunter. "We're not there yet."

"No. No, no, not that. I need you with me." Dean's grip tightened, and Alex tipped her head as his voice deepened in urgency. "All the time, just like how it used to be. Where you stood up to all my shit. I — I need you to stop me from doing anything else."

"Okay." The angel gently pried herself free, and Dean's hand fell back to his side. "Of course. If that's what it's going to take, of course." She crossed the room and pulled open the door. "Well, come on, then. You haven't eaten in over twelve hours, and I'm hungry, too. We'll check in with Sam on the way."

"Okay." The Winchester's face was more relaxed, clearly relieved that Alex had agreed to his terms, and he followed her out of his bedroom and down the hall.

No, yeah," she heard Sam say from the library, and she slowed down as Dean hurried past her. "I know, I know. I hear you. Dean has had to kill before. We both have. But that was —"

"That was what?" Dean moved up the library stairs, and Alex reluctantly followed after a moment's beat. Chair legs scraped as Sam rose to his feet, and Dean grimaced. "That was a massacre," he finished for his brother. "That's what it was." He looked over at Castiel, and the seraph's gaze dropped away. "There was a time I was a hunter, not a stone-cold killer. You can say it," he added when Sam and Castiel exchanged looks. "You're not wrong. I crossed the line." He extended his arm, turning it so the Mark caught in the light. "Guys, this thing's gotta go."

"That won't be easy." Castiel held out an arm, and Alex crossed over to take his hand.

"Well, then burn it off!" Dean's voice rose in desperate anger, and his face twisted in disgust as he stared down at the scar. "Cut it off!"

"It is more than just a physical thing." Castiel's words echoed those Alex had spoken earlier, and the young angel nodded in agreement. "It will take a very powerful force to remove the effect."

"Dean, we have been through _all_ the lore." Sam discouragingly motioned to the books that lay all around him. "There's nothing."

Castiel nodded in agreement. "This reaches back to the time of creation," he explained. "It may pre-date the lore." He paused, squeezing Alex's hand as he thought before adding, "If we had the demon tablet, maybe."

Sam frowned, and he sat back down in his chair. "But you said it was missing."

"It is," the seraph agreed. He hesitated, pale lips pursing in reluctance, and Alex tipped her head curiously. "There … may be another way," he finally said. "We may not have access to the tablet, but perhaps … perhaps we can speak with the angel who wrote them."

"You mean Metatron?" Sam's face went blank with surprise, and his eyes swept across Castiel before landing on Dean. The Winchester was stiff, jaw clenched, and Alex dropped her mate's hand as she took a step sideways to stand between Castiel and Dean.

"Hey," she began, clearing her throat to draw everyone's attention onto her. "Are we really thinking that's a great idea? I mean, he literally tried to kill _half_ of us, and got pretty damn close." She motioned to herself and Dean, grimacing at the memory. "Not to be rude or anything, but you're gonna have to keep a pretty close eye on me and Dean if you bring him here. Cause there's nothing I want to do more than put a bullet through his brain."

Sam and Castiel exchanged looks, and Alex waited patiently as a silent conversation passed between the two of them. She nodded over at Dean, and the Winchester consciously rolled down his sleeve over the Mark to hide it from sight. "You know what?" Sam finally said. "I think it's worth the risk. If he knows anything, then it'll be worth it."

Castiel nodded. "I'll contact Ingrid right away," he announced. "Out of all the angels, she'll be the one who will listen. Perhaps one of you should come with me."

His eyes landed on Alex, and the young angel looked up at Dean. "That okay with you?" she asked. "If it's not, I'll stay."

The Winchester gave a half-hearted shrug. "Go for it. It's not like I'm going anywhere. I'll be fine until you get back." Their shoulders brushed as he disappeared off towards the kitchen, and, with a silent nod to Castiel, Alex followed after her charge.

...

 **T** he engine of the Lincoln Continental rattled loudly as the car rolled down the road, and Alex fiddled impatiently with her seatbelt as she watched the trees go by. Her mate sat beside her, attention afixed on the road, but every once and a while, the young angel felt his gaze flicker over to her. "So." Alex let her seatbelt snap back to its original position, finally breaking the silence between them. "Ingrid agreed to let us talk to Metatron, huh?"

"It took some convincing, but yes." The seraph's head nodded in agreement, and he spared her a look so their eyes could meet before he turned back to the busy road. "She is meeting us at the gate at four o'clock."

Alex looked down at her phone for the time, nodding in understanding. "So, we must be almost there," she concluded. "We've been driving for over six hours."

"Our exit is in three miles." Castiel's fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel, face growing distant as he drifted into his thoughts; it was only the brush of Alex's hand against his that snapped him out of it. "You and Dean seem very close," he began, his tone light in conversation, but Alex picked out the darker note of curiosity. "You asked him for permission to come with me. Why?"

"Because I'm worried about him. And because he asked for my help." Alex drew her feet up underneath her so she was sitting cross-legged on the seat, angling her body slightly towards her mate as she took a deep breath. "When Dean was a demon, Crowley had me keep an eye on him. Dean didn't always listen to me, or respect me, but I was always there. Literally. Crowley had us on some sort of stupid leash." She waited for the seraph to nod; this information wasn't new. "Even though that's all over with, Dean wants me to do all that again. I guess it'll make him feel better, plus … he'll probably need the supervision with — with the Mark and all."

"And it was Dean who asked for this?" Castiel guided the car off of the highway, and Alex nodded quickly. "That's good. That means he still has some desire to control the Mark."

"I just figure that I should do whatever I can. I spent a lot of time with Dean, and I … I had to talk him down from a lot of situations. I guess you could say I know his angry side pretty well." She fell silent, gaze turning out the window in search of the playground that marked the gate to heaven. When she turned back, Castiel's face had grown dark. "Cas?" The seraph didn't answer, and she prodded him in the shoulder. "What is it?"

"When we were in Pontiac …" The seraph paused, taking a moment to gather his words. "While Dean and I were at the diner alone, he made me promise to kill him if the Mark ever took control."

"He asked you, too?" The young angel couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. "He told me he asked me because you and Sam wouldn't be able to do it."

"Well, he was right. I promised, but … I don't think I could do it." The Continental pulled up into a parking lot, and the engine died with a spluttering cough. "When did he ask you?"

"Before that. Two days before, I think." Alex's face twisted in concentration as she thought back before giving a nod of confirmation. "I thought it was just because he had a nightmare or something; I didn't think he was being serious." She followed the seraph out of the car, her expression dark and pensive. "I promised him, too."

The seraph didn't answer, his attention turning to the two angels at the playground. One was a woman, her hair dyed a vibrant purple, and the second inhabited the body of a child. They stopped, the girl halfway down a red slide, as Castiel stopped beside the sandbox, staring down at the complex sigil drawn in the sand. "They should be here by now," he announced fretfully, looking back towards the two guards. "Was there word of a delay?"

The purpled-haired woman shook her head. "All I do is watch the door. Who are you expecting, Castiel?" Her eyes slid over to Alex, sharpening a the sight of her, and Alex shifted backwards to the edge of the playground.

As her feet touched the line of grass, the sandbox lit up. Blue light poured upwards, and the sand lifted in a billowing cloud, and the young angel narrowed her eyes against the blinding pillar. When it faded, two forms stood in the center of the sigil. One was a woman, head held high as she regarded the seraph in front of her. The second was shorter, dressed in a cardigan sweater; even with his head covered by a dark sac, Alex recognized him as Metatron. Castiel stepped forward, dipping his head cordially. "Thank you, Ingrid."

His warm demeanor was not returned. "I did as you asked at great risk, Castiel," she reminded stiffly.

"I know," the seraph agreed. "I approached you because I know you share my belief that it is the angels' mission to protect humans. It's possible I can eliminate a great threat to them, but I will need his help."

Ingrid's gaze turned past him to rest on Alex, and her tight-lipped frown deepened into one of displeasure. Alex rolled back her shoulders, ready for criticism, but Ingrid merely turned back to Castiel. "He must be returned intact," she warned. "Is that clear?" Her gaze once more turned back onto Alex, and she added, "I know some in your present company might hold a certain grudge."

"I won't touch him." Alex raised one hand, three middle fingers lifted. "Scout's honor." The angel looked less than convinced, so she added, "His information and your trust is more important than revenge for a plan that didn't kill me. No harm will come to him at my hand."

"Very well." Ingrid guided the prisoner over to Castiel, and the seraph clamped a hand on Metatron's shoulder as the portal opened once again.

Castiel pulled the bag off from Metatron's head, and the scribe's face contorted into a smirk. "Told you last time I saw you I'd get out of the slammer."

"It's temporary, trust me." Castiel nudged him off towards the car, and Alex stepped forward to walk on the scribe's other side.

"Well," Metatron began, apparently disinterested in Castiel's cold comment, "speaking of temporary, you must've borrowed some more grace. The both of you. You're looking very good. Of course," he added slyly, we both know that won't last. Is that why I'm here? You think I'm gonna help you?"

"This isn't about me," the seraph ground out, and Alex purposely bumped into Metatron as he stepped, causing him to stumble slightly.

"Of course not." The words were accompanied by a sidelong glare over at Alex, and the young angel didn't bother to hold back a smug smile. "The great Castiel never stoops to such selfishness. So what, then?"

...

 **T** he dungeon door swung open, and Alex shoved the blindfolded scribe into the darkened room. Sam followed close behind, circling around to adjust the wooden chair as Alex yanked the bag off of Metatron's head. The scribe blinked as the lights flickered on, and he took a moment to run his eyes over the dreary concrete walls. "Lovely room." Sam shoved him into the chair, and Metatron sat down with a thud. "It's where you bring the kinky chicks, am I right?" he added teasingly.

Alex frowned, and Sam retrieved a iron chain from the corner of the room. "I'll be asking the questions here," he reminded sharply, meticulously securing the angel to the wooden chair. "You … your only job is to provide information."

"Ah. Well, information does happen to be a specialty. Got about two billion fun facts up here." He motioned towards his temple best he could with his arms bound to his side, and despite his restraints, his eyes sparkled lightly. "Of course," he added after a second, "whether I choose to cough one up or not is another matter."

Sam stepped back, and Alex shifted forward to stand at his side. "We need to know how to remove the Mark of Cain from Dean's arm."

"What?" The humor in Metatron's eyes fell away to disbelief, and he looked between Sam and Alex. "He's back? What is it with you guys and _not staying dead_?" His rhetorical question was followed by a pause, and Alex gave a disinterested shrug as the scribe's gaze fell into one of curiosity. "Okay, fine. Because of the Mark?" He leaned forward, and the chains clinked together. "So … he's a demon."

"No."

Sam's answer was short, and the scribe leaned back. "Okay, what then?" he asked, and he chuckled slightly at Sam's troubled silence. "What, did he 'kill a human' or something?" His words were accompanied by air quotes, and, when Sam crossed his arms across his chest, Metatron's eyes stretched wide in amazement. "He's gone nuclear!" he declared, and Alex frowned at the almost triumphant note of laughter. "Total foaming at the mouth, balls-out maniac. Ah — that's fantastic!"

"Do you know how to remove it?" Sam demanded, and Metatron scoffed.

"Maybe." The scribe's shoulders rose and fell with his cryptic answer. "But here's the thing. You expect any help out of me, you keep that crazy brother of yours on a short leash."

It was Sam's turn to scoff. "Buddy, I don't care what happens to you. You killed my brother." Footsteps followed his words, and Alex turned to see Dean step into the archive room. The hunter's eyes were dark, and Alex moved over to the door to block his view of the Scribe of God.

"You good?" she murmured.

"Yeah, of course." Dean kept his eyes trained on her, but the young angel saw them flicker off towards Metatron once or twice. "Where's Cas?"

"Uh, he stepped out to go talk to Claire. He said he'd be back soon." Alex stepped aside to let the Winchester through, following close behind as she watched him stiffen.

"Ain't life a bitch?" Metatron greeted Dean, and Alex moved cautiously at the hunter's side, ready to intervene should it be necessary. "Nebbishly little guy — me — always sticking it to the lunkhead jocks."

"You know what? Screw the Mark." Dean glared down at Metatron, his voice sharp with anger, but his fists remained at his side. "Let's just kill him."

Metatron chuckled, not fooled by Dean's proverbial bark, and he turned his head to look over at Sam. "Boy, he really is a mess. Who knew the Mark was so toxic? Well," he corrected, "actually, I did." The scribe laughed at his own joke, and Alex cast a wary look up at Dean as Metatron's voice darkened. "You know it is going to own you sooner rather than later."

"Yeah, so, how do we get rid of it?"

Metatron's head recoiled in mock offense. "What, just like that, social hour's over?" he joked, and Sam frowned.

"Yeah, and now we're moving on to our keynote speaker," the tall Winchester retorted, and he stepped forward to stand at his brother's side, arms folded across his chest.

"Which is you," Dean added. "With us asking the questions. And me taking the personal pleasure of carving the answers out of you." His fists curled at his side as his eyes flashed, and Alex reached over to put a warning hand on his shoulder.

Even Metatron didn't miss the threat, and he leaned back, hands going up defensively. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on there, badass! Lighten up! Why do you just assume I'm not gonna be helpful?"

"Because you're a dickwad."

"But I'm your _dickwad_." The scribe turned his eyes up to Sam, pouting slightly in faux-innocence. "I have a special place in my non-heart for all of you. To which end — ta-daa! I'd be tickled to help you pop this biblical zit." His eyes twinkled, and Alex frowned, already displeased by whatever may follow. "To do it, you are gonna need one specific thing. Your old bud — the First Blade."

"What?" Sam uttered the exclamation of surprise at the same time as Alex, and the two exchanged worried looks as Metatron laughed.

"As I said: ain't life a bitch." His grin widened as he looked between the three of them, and with a jerk of his head, Sam motioned his brother out of the room.

Dean followed with a glare, leaving Alex to take up the rear. "We'll be back eventually," she told the scribe, spitting out each word, and she flicked the lights off as she slammed the bookshelves closed.

The Winchesters were already halfway to the stairs, and Alex ran after them, falling in step behind Sam. "This is the single worst idea I've ever heard," he was insisting. "You just whacked a houseful of people, and that's when the Blade was nowhere around. And now you wanna be in actual contact with it?"

"We don't know that I have to be in contact with it." Dean hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and Sam and Alex exchanged skeptical glances before they followed. "All we know is that we need it."

"No, no, all we know is that he says we need it," Sam retorted. "We don't even know what he wants us to do with it."

"A step at a time, alright?" Dean reached into his pocket and dug out his cell phone. "We play it safe, we learn whatever the spell is, how it works, and we keep the Blade out of my hands."

Alex reached forward before the Winchester could bring the phone up to his ear. "Crowley?" she guessed. When Dean nodded, she shook her head. "Just — just wait."

"Are we sure this isn't the Mark making you want the damn thing?" Sam pressed before the young angel could continue. "I mean, why would we trust anything Metatron says?"

"I don't trust Metatron." Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket with a loud scoff.

"Hey, hey. We're not saying you do." Alex rounded on the brothers with a frown. "Just hold on a second, okay? Metatron knows that the minute we put that thing in Dean's hands, it's over for him. Listen. If he has one strength, it's long-term planning. He gives us one piece of the puzzle, we start asking for more. We start trusting him; not a lot, but a little. That — that's what he wants."

"So you think we actually need the Blade." Sam's voice was flat, but Alex gave a firm nod.

"But I don't think we should go rushing to get our hands on it," she finished. "It's clearly not the only piece of the puzzle, and the farther it stays away from Dean, the better." She fished her phone out of her back pocket and scrolled through her contacts to find Crowley's number. "Let me call Crowley. Me," she repeated when Dean frowned. "I can't imagine he's hyped to speak with you. I'll ask him to meet with us, and we'll explain what's going on. See what he says." Her eyes turned onto Dean, and her voice sharpened. "If he's anything like I think he is, he'll want the Mark gone just about as much as you and I."

The Winchesters exchanged looks, and after a few seconds, Sam caved. "Okay," he finally agreed. "See if he'll meet us behind the theatre in Smith Center in twenty minutes."

"Sure thing." Alex turned her back to them and made her way towards the library as her phone rang, making sure to put enough distance between her and the brothers before the demon answered. The line clicked after the third ring, and Alex leaned up against one of the library chairs. "Hey, Crowley."

"Mouse. It's been a while, hasn't it. What do you want?"

"I need you to meet us in the alley behind the theatre in Smith Center in, oh, say, twenty minutes." Alex turned her head to watch the Winchesters making their way towards the iron staircase, and she waved at them to signal she would catch up.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. We need to talk with you. Sam and Dean will be there soon." Her name on Dean's tongue had her looking up from her phone, and she waved him away when he pointed towards the door. "This is important. See you soon."

She didn't wait for the King of Hell to give his assent before she hung up — hopefully leaving the choice as a command would increase his chance of showing up — and hurried up after Dean. "I'm right here." She slipped past the Winchester and through of the heavy iron door, leaving Dean to follow. "Alright, let's go."

...

 **R** ain drummed on the hood of the Impala, and Alex sunk down deeper into the cold leather, regretting having climbed into the car in the first place. The Winchesters sat in the front seat, seemingly unaffected by the dreary weather, and the young angel drew her sweatshirt tighter around her with a sigh. Her noise broke the silence, and Sam turned to look back at her. "You sure Crowley's coming?"

"I didn't give him much of a choice," came Alex's weary response. "But between you and me, I won't mind him never showing up if it meant I didn't have to get out in this rain."

The sky flickered, and Crowley appeared in front of the Impala's hood, hands casually planted in his suit pockets. Alex's head lolled back, a wordless groan on her lips. Of course: if she hadn't known any better, she would have sworn he did that on purpose. The Impala doors slammed shut as the hunters got out to join him, and with a sigh, Alex followed.

The rain pummeled her hair, and she drew her hood up in a futile attempt to stay dry and she circled around to stand in front of the demon. "Well?" The King of Hell was already soaked, but he barely seemed to notice. "What is it that is so important you had to drag me away from my kingdom?"

Dean scoffed, and Sam shoved his hands into his pockets. "Uh, listen," he began, "we need a favor." The silent lifting of the demon's eyes served as his prompt, and Sam glanced over at his brother. "We need you to bring us the Mark of Cain."

Silence. The demon's eyes flashed in surprise, and they narrowed as he stared up at Sam. Alex shifted impatiently, hands drawn up deep into her sleeves, and as the silence dragged on, she finally cleared her throat. "Really, Crowley?" Dean finally snapped. "Radio silence?"

"Say something," Sam prompted, and the King of Hell's mouth finally opened.

"You want me to do _what_?" he bellowed, and Alex's eyes widened in surprise at his anger.

Sam brushed back his soaked hair, repeating, "We need you to bring back —"

"Bring back the Blade?" Crowley didn't let him finish, his anger still boiling over. "I don't think so!" His brown eyes turned onto Alex. "You. You called me here. Did you actually think I would agree to this?!"

"You don't have to give the thing to me," Dean reminded tightly, and the demon's head recoiled.

"I should say not!" he retorted.

"No, no, just retrieve it and hang out it until we need it," Dean finished, and Alex grunted in agreement.

Crowley's eyes turned onto her, flickering up to Sam as he snapped his jaw shut. "You two." He pointed to the both of them, and Alex tucked her hands into her soaked pockets. "You're supposed to be the sane ones. You onboard with this?"

"Yeah." Sam gave a tight-lipped nod, and after a second, Alex echoed him. "It's our best shot at removing the Mark."

"Insane." Crowley shook his head in dismay, and Alex stepped aside to let him pace past. "You want me to procure the most dangerous weapon on the planet for Dean Winchester, the man who goes _mental_ every time he touches it!" He spun around to face them again. "I thought you'd want to go for a beer, catch a film."

Sam looked over at Dean, eyes sparkling with exasperation, and when he turned back to Crowley, he kept his voice slow. "Look, if this plan works …"

"It's not a plan," the demon retorted. "It's a probable death sentence for me and my kind."

"If it works," Sam repeated, ignoring the interruption, "it's better for you. Look, when the Mark is gone, the Blade can't operate." He reached up to brush his wet hair out of his face, hazel eyes dark in exasperation.

"Win-win," Dean promised, but when Crowley just frowned, he repeated, "Huh? Win-win."

"Stop that." Crowley waved off the Winchester's ridiculous words. "It can't operate. It's hidden."

"Okay." Dean tried again, his voice growing as sharp as the demon's. "The Blade might be powered down, but the Mark is not. I'm doing everything I can to keep it together." Crowley scoffed, and Dean's eyes flashed. "You think the body count is high right now? Wait til Hal takes over!"

Alex squinted, not sure what exactly the hunter was referencing, but the reference was apparently not lost on the King of Hell. His mouth was open, half-ready to form a response, but Sam was quicker. "We figure you stashed the Blade somewhere far away …"

"Damn right." Crowley turned his nose up stubbornly as he regarded the three hunters. "It's in the crypt with my bones."

"Alright." Sam nodded in accordance with the demon's revelation, but when Crowley made no other move, he added, "Well?"

The King of Hell looked between Sam and Dean, and after a second of careful consideration, his shoulders fell in disgust and defeat. "I hate Guam this time of year," he muttered.

Something else left his lips, but Alex barely heard. The air twinged, growing cold as if something was suddenly retracted, and she shivered at the brisk gusts that swirled in its absence. "Hey." She interrupted Sam, who was currently speaking, head lifted and eyes narrowed against the rain. "Did you feel that?"

"You … you mean the wind?" Sam blinked in surprise, unsure what she was speaking of.

"No." Alex brushed him off, immediately turning her attention onto Crowley. The demon was standing stiffly, head slightly tipped as if listening, and she repeated her question to him. "Did you feel it? It … I don't know what that was."

Crowley hesitated, eyes narrowed cautiously. However, after a second, he gave a small shake of his head. "Never you mind." He turned to the Winchesters. "I'll get the First Blade. _But_. Neither of you are going to lay an eye it until I say so. Understand?" Both hunters nodded, and the demon dismissed them with a wave of his hand. "I want to speak with Alex. Alone, if you don't mind."

Alex scowled at the idea of being left alone in the rain, but she gave Sam a nod of agreement. Neither Sam nor Dean argued, and, with a cautious look at Crowley, they retreated into the car. "Well?" Alex adjusted the hood, already soaked through, and with a reluctant shrug, she pushed it off. "What do you want?"

"You remember the witch. Rowena. My mother."

Alex, halfway through swallowing, choked in surprise, and she thudded a fist against her chest to clear her airway. "Mother?" she repeated, and she looked back at Sam and Dean, eyes stretched wide in disbelief. "Mother. Your mother."

"Yes, yes." Crowley waved the idea off as if it was of no importance to either of them. "Son a witch." His eyes darkened, and his voice lowered. "She's a manipulative bitch — borderline crude, but, what's the saying? Keep your enemies close … something something something."

"Why — why are you telling me this?" Alex's thin grace snapped out, feeling the cold, damp air. "That thing I felt —"

"Witchcraft, I imagine. Something us demons can't feel until it's too late, unfortunately." Crowley's voice dropped into a whisper, and the air grew warmer as he shifted close. "I don't know who I can trust anymore. Not my demons — definitely not her. But you; she won't manipulate you." His eyes narrowed, twinkling in displeasure. "I never thought it would come to this, but you may be the only I can count on."

Alex scoffed, doing her best to cover up her own surprise. "You should know as much as I do how bad of an idea that is," she warned, and the hint of a smile tugged on the King's lips.

"Keep your eyes open. I may call on you again soon." Crowley stepped away, and Alex shivered as the air grew cold again without the demon's heat. "Go get dry. I'll see you soon."

He disappeared, vanishing into thin air, and Alex jumped into the back of the Impala as the engine purred to life. "What did Crowley want?" Sam didn't look back over his shoulder as he spoke, and Alex shrugged as she shucked off her drenched outer layer.

"Nothing important," she lied. "Just his usual bullshit. Intimation, mockery." She dropped the sopping fabric onto the car floor, cold fingers running up and down her bare arms as she waited for the heat to kick in. Her phone, laying dry on the seat next to her, dinged, and the young angel looked down at the text from Castiel. "I'll let Cas know what's going on, but as soon as we get back, I'm taking a hot shower." She heard a chuckle from Sam, and she reached for her phone as the Impala backed up onto the street and drove away.

...

 **A** lex pulled Sam's hoodie tighter around her as she stepped out of her room, drawing her wet hair up into a messy bun. Her grace stretched out, carefully avoiding the dungeon and the angel inside as she sought out the Winchesters. She felt them down the hall, their souls close together, and she followed them back into the library.

The brothers were seated at the war table, and both hunters had a beer at their side. Sam's head was buried in his laptop, and he jumped as Alex dropped down into the seat between him and Dean. "Hey," she greeted. "Finding anything?"

"No." Dean's hand thumped against the table in disgust and frustration. "I don't know why we even try. There was nothing in the lore before, and there's nothing here now."

There was a creak above their heads, and all three looked up to watch the bunker door open. Castiel stalked through, his dress shoes clicking against the metal alcove as he crossed over to the stairs. "The First Blade is back into play and Crowley is the one getting it?" he seraph demanded, his voice sharp and incredulous, and he hurried down the stairs to stand in front of them. "I don't mean to be an alarmist, but —"

"Hello to you, too." Alex rose to her feet to greet her mate, frowning slightly at his rushed and angered entrance. "How's Claire?"

"She's gone." Castiel brushed off her question, his eyes seeking out Dean. "What were you thinking?"

"Yeah, well, you know us," Dean joked wryly. "When we screw ourselves, we like to go whole hog."

"Claire's _gone_?" Alex put a hand on Castiel's chest to regain his attention, and the seraph reluctantly turned back down to her.

"She took off." Exasperation filled his voice at the interruption, but it quickly dropped away. "I don't know why. I — I should have stopped her. But I am certain that she is destined for more trouble and disappointment. She is so … so full of rage."

Alex's hand fell away, and Dean's gaze dropped to the table. "Listen, man," he said after a second, "if I could make it better, I would."

"It's actually why I'm here." Castiel pushed past Alex to stand in front of the Winchester, and the young angel frowned. "Well, one of the reasons anyways. I was hoping you might reach out to her."

"Me?" Dean repeated, and Castiel gave a grave nod. "Seriously?" The Winchester shook his head incredulously. "I'm probably the last person she would wanna hear from."

For a moment, the seraph looked at a loss for words. "I thought there would be a connection," he finally admitted. "One extremely messed up human to another. You could explain why you murdered her only friend."

Dean's eyes flashed first in surprise, and then in hurt, and he lifted his beer bottle to his lips as he scoffed dryly. "Well, when you put it like that."

Castiel defeatedly dropped down into the seat across from the Winchester, apparently unaware at the offense taken at his words. "All I know is she won't talk to me. I thought if she understood the kind of man Randy was and the danger she was in, she might …"

He trailed off, shaking his head, and Dean's chest rose and fell in a reluctant sigh. "What the hell. Why not? Long shots seem to be the theme around here." His palms hit the table as he pushed himself to his feet. "I'm gonna go make a sandwich."

He stalked off towards the kitchen, and Alex watched him go until he was out of sight. "Hey." She put a hand on her mate's shoulder, dipping her head to press a kiss on his temple. "Welcome back. Either of you want a sandwich?" she added, glancing over at Sam. "I can make you one while I babysit Dean."

"Uh, no. I'm good." Sam's hazel eyes drifted off towards the hall through which his brother had vanished, falling silent. When no other response came, Alex shrugged and hurried after Dean.

True to his word, the Winchester was in the kitchen. His phone was up against his ear, and Alex paused in the doorway until he was done. "Hey, it's Dean," he was saying. "Look, Claire, we need to talk in person. Just, tell me where, okay? Call me." He hunt up, turning around, and a gutteral curse sounded in his throat at the sight of her. "Fucking hell," he swore, and he shoved his phone back into his pocket with a scowl. "Don't do that."

"You're the one who wanted me to follow you around." Alex stepped into the kitchen and took a seat at the metal island. "So. Sandwich. What are we feeling?"

"Turkey." Dean crossed over to the fridge and pulled out a ziploc bag. "And bacon." He pulled out a second bag, and Alex grunted in acceptance, watching as he fetched a head of lettuce from the bottom shelf as well. His phone rang suddenly, and the Winchester jumped to answer, juggling the ingredients in his hands as he fumbled for his phone. He dumped the food onto the island as he answered, and Alex busied herself with digging out a cold slice of bacon from the bag. "That's good to hear," she heard Dean say after a second, and she purposefully wrapped her grace in knots to keep from eavesdropping.

Dean listened for another five seconds before he hung up, and the young angel finally let her curiosity well up. "Claire?" she guessed.

"Nope. Crowley." The Winchester dug through the pantry in search of bread, and Alex's head tipped in interest. "He's got the Blade." His voice was calm, disinterested even, as he returned to the island and tossed the bread beside the meat, and his eyes swept the kitchen. "Mayo," he announced.

Alex frowned, but after a second, she pushed her away her suspicion; there was no reason to doubt Dean's lack of intrigue; the King of Hell had already promised to keep the weapon as far away from Dean as possible. "We keep mayo in the fridge, dumbass," she reminded when the hunter started digging through the cabinets. "Sam keeps having to move it there when you don't put it back."

A bag of chips rustled as the Winchester pulled it free, and she leaned back slightly as it was tossed onto the island in front of her. "It doesn't need refrigeration," she heard muttered in retaliation. "I don't like it cold." Dean shook the jas as he pulled it from within the fridge, ripping off the lid and tossing it next to the bread as he returned to the island. He paused, eyes sweeping across the parts as he ran down his mental list, and after a second, he gave a nod of confirmation. "Alright. Before we do this, I, uh, I'm gonna go take a leak. Be right back."

He brushed past Alex, and the angel turned in her seat to watch him walk out the door. "I'll wait here," she called, and Dean waved a hand in acknowledgement before he disappeared out of sight.

Alex turned back to the pile of food, pulling the bag of potato chips closer as she looked down at her phone. There was a text from a hunter — an old friend of Bobby's — and Alex typed out a half-interested reply; the question had come in before she had even gotten into the shower, and since it hadn't been followed up by a call, it couldn't have been too urgent of an inquiry.

She swiped away the second text, this one from Crowley, reading only 'Got it,' and she tossed her phone onto the metal counter with a sigh. The First Blade was back in play. The young angel shivered at the memory of Dean's black eyes, and she hastily shoved the thought away. The Winchester was dangerous enough with only the Mark. If Crowley had any sense, he would keep it as far away from them as possible.

Footsteps drew her out of her rumination, and Alex looked up, expecting Dean. "Sam?" She tipped her head as the Winchester looked around the kitchen, and she tried to peer past him in sight of her mate. "Where's Cas?"

"Where's Dean?" Her question was met with a demand, and the young angel blinked in surprise.

"Bathroom —" She stretched her grace out towards the restrooms, searching for Dean's soul, and she frowned when she felt it in a place where it should not have been. "Shit." Alex jumped to her feet, almost tripping over her stool in her haste, and she swiped her phone off of the counter as she bolted towards the door. "He's downstairs."

"What? I thought you were watching him! Cas!" Sam followed after her, yelling the seraph's name behind him, and Alex heard a second set of footsteps break into a run behind her.

"I was!" Alex turned down the hall, sneakers skidding on the tile floor. "He said he was just going to the bathroom." She glanced back as she reached the stairs to see Sam's tight-lipped look, and she added defensively, "What? I'm sorry with — with everything else going on, t-that Dean needing to take a piss didn't trigger any red flags!" She grabbed the railings as she jumped down the stairs, trying to keep up as Sam and Castiel passed her.

"Let's try this again." She could hear Dean through the archive door, and she slid to a stop beside Sam and Castiel. "What's the next step?!"

"What is is you humans say so inelegantly?" Metatron's voice was rough, jagged with pain and scorn. "Oh yes — go fuck yourselves."

"Dean?" Alex pounded up against the door, lifting her voice above the scribe's taunt. "Hey! Open the door! Dean!" Her grace boiled up, but she forced it down as she turned to her mate. "Get this open."

"Stand back." The seraph's eye glowed blue as his grace rose up, and Alex ducked out of the way to stand behind him as he lifted a hand towards the wooden door. The wood trembled, and Alex flinched away as it suddenly exploded inwards in a shower of splinters.

She opened her eyes as Sam rushed past her, and she slipped past her mate to run after the Winchester. Dean was standing over Metatron, an angel blade glinting in the dim light, and Sam tried to wrestle it out of his hands as he dragged his brother away.

Dean struggled, and then Alex was there, one hand extended towards the hunter as she put herself between him and Metatron. "Dean! Stop!" She lifted her voice above the struggle, and Dean's green eyes swung over to her. "Drop it!"

The weapon clattered to the ground almost immediately, and Sam quickly kicked it aside. Dean's nostrils flared angrily, but the fight from his eyes was gone, and Alex turned around to give her full attention to Metatron.

The scribe's face was beaten and bruised, with blood oozing from a cut across his cheek, and Alex dropped her gaze to his chest where a thin, dark laceration traced down towards his heart. "Well, at least he's still alive," she told her mate, her voice sharp with agitation and annoyance, and she rolled back the sleeves of her sweatshirt as she put her hands on her hips. "Pity."

Metatron chuckled, his blue eyes glinting through a swollen eyelid, but Castiel simply frowned at her words. "I have to take him back."

"Cas." Sam turned away from his brother, one hand stretching out to the side to keep Dean back. "This won't happen again."

Castiel hesitated, but after a second he gave a small, firm shake of his head. "I gave my word," he explained. "I have fences to mend in Heaven, and as it is, I have a lot to explain."

"Here." Alex drew her grace up into her hands as she pointedly jabbed a finger into Metatron's swollen cheek. The scribe grunted in pain, but Alex ignored it as she let her grace flow inwards to heal the bruises. "No point in bringing him back looking like half-slaughtered meat."

The chains fell away as Castiel unbound the scribe, and the moment he was free, Metatron pushed himself to his feet. "If you ever ask me for help again, I will choose death," he ground out, and his lips pulled up into a vehement snarl as his eyes turned onto Dean, who had slunk off to the corner of the room. "You realize it's going to get worse, Dean," he hissed as Castiel dragged him out of the room. "You're gonna get worse!"

The scribe's voice faded away, and Alex turned back to Dean. "You okay?" She crossed over to him, eyes going up and down his form in search of any wounds. Her fingers found his wrist, and she turned his palm upwards as she examined the Mark on his arm. "You gave me the slip."

"You let me out of your sight." There was no malice in his voice, only empty resignation, and he heaved a sigh as he stared out towards the hall. "Look, Sam," he began, and Sam's lips pursed angrily. "I don't — I didn't …"

"I know." Sam shook his head in frustration. "I, uh, I should make sure Cas has everything under control," he said after a second. "I'll be right back."

He hurried after the seraph and the scribe, and Alex let Dean's wrist fall from her grasp. "Come on." She waved him forward, and the Winchester followed after only a moment's pause. "You need a drink and a sandwich."

She made her way up the stairs, and, when no response came, she eventually glanced back at the hunter. "Hey, look, I'm sorry—"

"Don't. It's not your fault." Dean pushed past her into the library, and Alex paused in the doorway as he dropped down into one of the tables. "I tricked you."

"Hey. You okay?" Sam's voice came from somewhere out of sight, and the young angel tipped her head as she tried to pinpoint his location.

Dean looked up, eyes flashing in surprise at his brother's presence, but it wasn't long before he dropped his head once again. "He said the river ends at the source," he admitted, and Sam sat down in the chair across from him. "I don't know what it means — maybe it's nothing. It was the last thing he said before you guys busted in."

"Dean. Look, man, we had to …"

"Hey, no. I get it, alright? I — I was gonna kill him. And I couldn't stop myself."

"We'll figured it out," Sam promised. He hesitated, fingers dancing nervously on the tabletop, and after a moment, he ventured forth, "You know what Cas about needing a powerful force?" Dean voiced his agreement, and Sam cleared his throat. "So, I've been thinking. Look. Cain had Mark, right? And he's lived with it. For years, he's lived with it. So yeah, the Mark is strong, but — Dean, maybe there's a part of you that wants to give into it. And maybe you have to fight that, you now? Maybe … part of that powerful force has to be you."

He fell silent, and Alex entered the room to slide into the empty chair next to him, patiently waiting Dean's response. The eldest hunter was saved from responding, however, by the ringing of his phone.

Dean jumped to answer, turning slightly so he faced away from Sam and Alex, and the young angel lifted her grace to her ears just enough to recognize Claire's voice coming from the speakers. "I've thought it over," she heard the teen say. "Maybe it's only fair to hear your side of it. I mean, Castiel seemed to trust you, a lot."

"Yeah, okay." Surprise lined Dean's voice, but he nodded nevertheless. "Where do you wanna meet?"

"Crystal Lake. Meet me there tomorrow morning at ten."

"Okay." Dean glanced over at Alex, and the young angel flicked her eyes over to Sam, doing her best to pretend she hadn't overhead. "I'll see you there." He hung up, tucking his phone back into his pocket as he rose to his feet. "That was Claire," he announced. "She wants to meet tomorrow."

"Really?" Sam's head recoiled slightly in surprise, and when Dean nodded, he blinked. "Uh, that's great. Where?"

"Uh, Crystal Lake. North," the Winchester added after a second's thought. "We'll leave at nine," he told Alex, and when the young angel nodded, he tapped the table. "Alright. Food. Drink. Bed." His mouth hung half open, as if he wanted to say more, but, when no words came, the Winchester shook his head and walked away.

...

 **A** lex twisted in the Impala's seat, reaching back to grab her sweatshirt off of the backseat as she rolled up the window of the sleek black car. The day was surprisingly cool, and she pulled the clothing down over her head before she followed the Winchester out of the car. Crystal Lake glittered up the path, visible through the trees, and Alex cast a quick look over at the occasional trailer homes that stood in the grass off to her left. "Claire said she would be here at ten?"She looked down at her phone as Dean voiced his agreement, and, with a frown, she slid the device back into her pocket. "Well, then she should be here soon. It's five til."

"You talked with Cas?" Dean leaned up against the hood of the Impala, looking out towards the lake, and Alex gave a small shake of her head.

"He texted me last night to say that he brought Metatron back," she relayed, "and that Heaven wasn't particularly pleased, but all's forgiven. As far as I'm aware, he's on his way back." Dean grunted, and the angel slid her hands into her pockets. "You thought about what Sam said?"

"About fighting that part of me?" Dean scoffed, and he pushed himself off of the Impala and started towards the lake. "Sure, it sounds good and all, but realistically?" His voice dropped, and Alex lengthened her step to stay in earshot. "Who says it's even possible, you know?"

He dropped down onto a bench, and Alex sat down beside him, close enough to let their shoulders brush. "Who says indeed," she agreed quietly. "Me, Sam, Cas … we can't do this for you. Any of that strength comes from your own willpower."

"No!" The sudden, desperate cry from behind them had Alex jumping to her feet in surprise. Dean was at her side in an instant, spinning around towards the sound of Claire's voice, but the swinging of a bat towards his head had him barely ducking out of range. Alex jumped back, her heart skipping a beat, and she stretched her eyes wide as she tried to take in the situation.

There were two people: two attackers. The closest, the woman behind the attack, lunged forward again, but Dean was faster, grabbing the wooden weapon and twisting it around to pull the woman up against his chest. The bat came up, pressing into her neck, and the woman struggled angrily with a snarl.

"Dean!" The second opponent, was wielding an axe, and Alex launched herself forward as Dean spun out of the way, letting the woman go as he twisted to safety. The angel's hands closed around the wooden handle, right below the metal axehead, and she untied her grace so it flowed through her limbs. Her eyes glowed blue as she twisted the weapon, sending the man stumbling back in surprise, and she heaved it aside towards the lake as she squared up against the stranger.

She heard a body hit the ground, one too small to be Dean's, and when the man lunged forward, Alex grabbed the wrist and twisted in a wrist lock — an outstretched leg had the stranger falling to his back next to his companion.

"No!" Claire's scream again had Alex looking wildly around. Her gaze fell onto the axe in Dean's hand, and she took a step back as the Winchester towered over the two strangers.

"Hey," she warned, and she stretched an arm out to try and snap him out of it. "Dean, don't. You don't have to do this."

The axe glinted in the light as Dean heaved it above his head, and Claire screamed again as it swung downwards in a deadly arc.

Wood cracked, sending splinters flying through the air, and Alex flinched as the axehead embedded itself in to the bench beside him. Dean's hands came off the weapons, falling to his side, and the strangers wasted no time in scrambling to their feet as they bolted. Alex clenched her jaw as they disappeared among the trees, and once they were out of sight, she turned her attention back to Claire.

The teen was already halfway to the camper, not even sparing them a second glance, and the young angel ground her teeth. "Son of a …" Alex bent down, gasping for air as she steadied herself from the sudden and violent attack, and she grunted when Dean patted her on the back. He stalked past her, and Alex followed, surpassing the hunter to stop at the trailer door through which Claire had disappeared. " She fucking … she tried to kill us." Another curse fell from her lips, and she bit her tongue to keep her grace from boiling up in retaliation.

"Me. Tried to kill me." Dean dug the keys out of his pocket, and Alex frowned at his tone, remarkably casual considering the sudden assult . "She didn't know you were coming with."

"Should we talk —"

"She doesn't want to talk!" The Winchester's voice lifted in anger, eyes flashing a violent green, and Alex fell quiet as he stalked away. "Just forget about Claire, okay? She set us up." He paused beside the car, his cheeks flushed with adrenaline and anger, and Alex softened her voice.

"Okay," she agreed. "Just … you did the right thing back there, not killing them. I'm proud of you." She watched as the hunter's face flashed with anger, and she dropped her gaze, hoping her praise didn't come across as demeaning. No response came, and Alex looked back up when Dean unlocked the car and climbed inside. The engine roared, and, with a sigh, Alex followed.


	12. There's No Place Like Home

**April 1st, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **T** he smell of breakfast wafted through the air, and Alex lifted her head, sniffing in curiosity. A glance down at her laptop showed the time to be past 7:30 in the morning, and with a frown, the angel tossed her computer onto her bed and exited her room. "Hello?" A flick of her grace down the hallway showed both Sam and Dean's rooms to be empty, and she slipped down the hall in search of the hunters.

"Alright, well, just — just keep me posted, okay?" Sam was seated in the library, his phone pressed up against his ear, and Alex paused to try and hear the voice on the other end of the line. "Yeah, you got it, Cas. Hey, uh, thanks." He hung up as Dean entered, and Alex's nose turned upwards as the smell of food intensified. "Hey." Sam set down his phone as Dean dropped a plate in front of him, and the hunter's eyes lifted in surprise. "You made egg-white omelettes?"

"Yeah. Breakfast of Champions." Dean slid a second plate across the table, and Alex dropped down in the seat next to Sam. "You know, if you're a dork like you. Morning," he added to the angel, and Alex grunted in return. "Figured you'd come running."

"I'd never miss your cooking," Alex agreed. "You look good. How long did you sleep?"

"Slept til seven." Pride lined Dean's voice, and he sat down across from her. "Until we get answers to this whole Mark of Cain, I am on a twelve-step program not to backslide."

"Twelve steps?" Sam repeated, and Dean nodded.

"Yeah. Hey, if Cain found a way to live with it after going dark side, then I can find a way to keep it in check. So, I haven't had a drink in a week, eight hours of rack time every night, and now … this masterpiece." He motioned down to his omelette and picked up his fork, and Alex chuckled as she pulled her plate closer.

Sam hesitated, but, when Dean didn't continue, he frowned. "That's three steps."

"Shut up and eat." Dean slid a fork over to Alex and Sam, and the two exchanged an amused look before they followed his command.

"Wow." Sam blinked in surprise as he looked back up at his brother, and Dean lifted an eyebrow at the praise. "That's — that's awesome."

"It's crap." Dean dropped his fork with a shake of his head, and Alex shoveled a second bite into her mouth. "Ugh. God. Soon as we get rid of this demonic tramp stamp, I am back on the booze, burgers, and … more booze. Tell me you got something."

"Uh, nothing yet." Sam mumbled the words around his breakfast, and he motioned over to his phone. "Uh, Cas has got his feelers out, and says he might swing by later if he has the time. You?"

"Nothing." Dean grimaced as he took another bite, and Alex watched in amusement before she turned her attention back to finishing her meal. "I, uh, got some sort of smoothie back in the kitchen. You want some?"

"Uh, yeah." Sam watched in surprise as his brother disappeared, and he looked over at Alex as Dean moved out of earshot. "Did you know about any of that?"

"I knew he had stopped drinking, but the rest of this is a surprise." Alex pulled one of the large leather-bound books close, flipping it open to a page pre-marked with an index card. "How long do you think this will all last?"

Sam was saved from responding by the reappearance of Dean, carrying two glasses half-filled with a green smoothie. He handed it to his brother, who eagerly took a sip, before he dropped back down into his chair. Alex watched as he copied Sam, nose wrinkled as he took a hesitant taste; the Winchester's face immediately scrunched up in disgust, and he immediately pushed it over to Alex. "Ew." The angel didn't even bother to smell it as she shoved it back to Dean. "I don't want that."

"Wait, what the hell?" Sam's exclamation of surprise had both Alex and Dean turning to him, confusion written across their faces.

"Cain or Crowley?" Dean guessed, and, when Alex wasn't looking, pushed the drink back.

"Charlie."

"Charlie?" Alex repeated in surprise, and Dean looked up from his phone, adding over her, "Is she back from Oz?" His head tipped as he waited for his brother to respond, but Alex jumped to cut him off.

"Oz?" she repeated. "What do you mean?"

She watched as the two brothers exchanged looks of confusion. "She wasn't here," Sam finally said, and when Alex's eyes narrowed even further, he turned to face her. "Uh, so you know that old computer downstairs? The one that doesn't work? Dean broke it."

"I didn't break —"

"Dude, that thing was toast." Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean opened his mouth, ready to protest further, but fell silent when Alex cleared her throat impatiently. "We called Charlie to try and fix it, cause, you know, she's good with that kind of stuff, but, uh, long story short, Dorothy came out of the wall and told us Dean released the Wicked Witch of the West when he broke this bottle by the computer, and then we had to hunt her down before she could find the key that would open up the door again so she could bring her, uh, monkey army here to take over the world. Charlie ended up going back to Oz with Dorothy."

Sam ended, and silence fell over the room. "What the actual fuck?" Alex looked over at Dean, grey eyes stretched wide. "You … you're joking, right? Are you guys messing with me?" When no response came, she let out a hesitant laugh. "Okay, seriously, what really happened?"

"That's about it," Dean readily admitted. "Oh, and apparently all of Chuck's books are online, even the non-published stuff."

"Okay, yeah, that part I knew." Alex scratched her forehead, unsure how to process the information she had just been given. "I don't — you're serious. Completely serious about all of that." Sam nodded, and the angel grimaced. "And you never thought to even mention this to me?"

"It, uh, just never came up." Sam's words were accompanied by an unconvincing shrug, and when Alex just shook her head, his attention turned back onto his laptop. "But, uh, it looks like she's back, and she's been busy."

He turned his laptop so Dean could see, and the short-haired Winchester leaned forward as he studied the screen. "What the hell am I looking at?" he asked after a minute.

"So, you know, I was looking into the news, checking for anything weird, right? I found this story about a torture vic. Apparently, some kid videotaped this at his next-door neighbor's house." He turned his computer back around to show Alex, and the angel tipped her head as she watched the clip. One of the figures was definitely Charlie — Alex immediately recognized the pale face and red hair — and she frowned at the sight of Charlie's victim, a short, balding, bloody man. "Apparently, some kid videotaped this at his next-door neighbor's house."

"What are you saying, that Charlie tortured someone?" Dean cocked an eyebrow, unable to believe his own eyes, and when Sam hesitated, the Winchester pushed himself to his feet, crossing over to stand behind his brother so he could watch the video again. "Our Charlie? Yea high, wouldn't hurt a hobbit, practically sparkles?" Sam didn't answer, and Dean dug his phone out of his pocket with a frown. "Come on, Charlie, pick up," he muttered, and Alex looked up to watch him pace away from them, phone pressed tightly against his cheek. "She's not answering."

"Who did she attack?" Alex asked Sam, and the hunter pulled his laptop back towards him.

"Uh, a guy named Peter Harper," he relayed. "District attorney in Topeka. According to this article, he wasn't the only person in town that was hit. Uh, a court stenographer was assaulted the night before."

"Well, you know, Charlie wouldn't go off on someone without a reason," Dean insisted, but his voice didn't sound half as convincing as his words.

"Yeah, I wouldn't think so either," Sam agreed, "but look at the video."

"Oh, I'm looking at it." Dean scowled as the video replayed. "But you know what we do, taken out of context, it doesn't look that much different. She could be hunting."

"Hunting?" Alex's chair creaked as she craned her neck back to look at the Winchester. Dean shrugged, and she shifted, placing her feet on the chair as she took a seat up on the table so she could face both brothers. "Since when did Charlie start hunting?"

"Uh, I guess since you last saw her." The frown on Dean's face relayed his displeasure. "I thought we told her to stop, but maybe she didn't listen." His brother sighed, and Dean shoved his phone back into his pocket. "Why don't we go talk to this asshat and see what's going on?"

"Sure. I guess." Sam sighed again as he rose to his feet. "Topeka isn't that far away, right?"

"Couple hours," Dean confirmed, and when Sam still didn't look convinced, he added, "It's the least we can do." He looked down at Alex, and the young angel nodded. "I'll go get my stuff. Meet me at the car in ten minutes."

...

 **Topeka, Kansas**

 **T** he door swung open under Dean's persistent knocks, and Alex straightened up, reaching into her pocket for her forged identification. "Can I help you?" Brown eyes scrutinized the three of them carefully, and Sam cleared his throat.

"Uh, Mr. Harper? My name is Special Agent Gabriel. We're here about last night's attack." Sam's gaze darkened when the door opened further, revealing the full extent of Charlie's attack. The man's arm was in a sling, and one eye sparkled warily from a swollen eye. "Do you have a minute?"

"Sure." Peter Harper stepped back, his free hand going up to brush back his greying hair as the three hunters entered the home. "I must say, I wasn't expecting the FBI to show up so quickly."

"We do our best to be efficient." Sam tucked his badge away as the door closed behind them, and Mr. Harper led them further into the house. "Now, did you notice anything odd before the attack — any, uh, strange smells, weird noises?"

"No, no, nothing." The man shook his head, his lips turned downwards in a small, puzzled frown. "I was just at home, getting ready for bed, and that crazy bitch jumped me. All she wanted was to know about some case that I worked on years ago — drunk driver t-boned another car, killing the driver, and the passenger was declared brain-dead on the scene."

"The Middletons." Dean spoke the name confidently, and Alex looked up at him in surprise. "They had a daughter, twelve years old. They were on their way to pick her up."

"Yeah, that's right." Harper's confused frown deepened. "How did you know that?"

"Well, we do our homework at the FBI." Dean's words were accompanied by a proud smile, and Peter Harper shook his head.

"Okay, well, then you know the case never went to trial," he told them discouragingly. "Before I could even see the evidence, it was off the books. All files were sealed."

Both Sam and Dean exchanged looks of surprise, and Alex tipped her head. "How's that even possible?"

"I don't know. But I looked into it this morning, and there's no record of the case anywhere, and the arresting officer has since passed away. There's nothing, except for this." He led the way into the kitchen and slid a manilla folder across the table towards Dean. "It's the social service file on the Middleton's kid. It's not very helpful, to be honest with you. The kid's disappeared, until now." He sat down in the chair, and the three agents did the same.

Dean grunted in understanding as he quickly flipped through the folder, and Sam asked, "Now, is there anything else you can remember about the case? Any names you can think of?"

"No." Once again, Harper gave a firm shake of his head. "Like I told the police, it was so long ago." He sighed, looking between the three hunters, ad he added, "Look, I'm sorry."

"Alright." Sam shifted, hands in his pockets as his voice shifted from sympathy to sternest. "Here's the thing. We talked to the other victim on the way here — the stenographer. Now, she said the attacker didn't let her go until she gave up a name. Your name."

"Okay." The man looked hesitant, stuttering slightly as he spoke. "But w-what does that have to do with m-me being attacked in my own home?"

"What name did you give up?"

Harper's eyes turned onto Dean, surprised at the sharp tone. "Look," he began, "I told you everything I told the police. This woman comes in here, beats the tar out of me, but — but there's no name to give up, so I — I don't know what else to —" He cut off when Dean rose to his feet, crossing the table to plant a hand on the back of Harper's chair as he leaned down, eyes flashing with impatience. "Hey, w-what are you doing?"

"Talk, you son of a bitch!" Dean's voice had Alex jumping to her feet, ready to intervene and pull the Winchester away.

"Hey, look,I"m the victim here — ah!" The man let our a noise of alarm as his chair tipped back even further. "Okay, okay, alright. Alright." His voice trembled as Dean uprighted his chair and stepped away, and Alex slowly sat back down. "Ah. After the files were sealed … I-I pushed. And, uh … they offered me money — a lot of money."

"Give me a name."

"The money kept on coming in from overseas accounts —"

"Give me a _name_!" Alex was at Dean's side in an instant, a hand going out to rest warily on his shoulder.

"I will be disbarred!" Harper's voice exploded, and Alex shot Sam a quick look, eyebrows lifted high. The Winchester returned the look, but the angel didn't catch it, turning back to Dean as she felt his muscles relax.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost ominous in tone. "That'll be the least of your worries, I promise you that."

Harper looked between Sam, Alex, and Dean, but when neither of the hunters backed down, the man's brown eyes dropped to the ground. "Councilwoman Barbara Cordry."

"Barbara Cordry," Dean repeated, and the attorney nodded defeatedly. "Alright." He stepped back, the light dying from his eyes, and Sam slowly rose to his feet. "Thanks."

He stalked away, not even bothering to look back, and Alex grimaced at the abruptness. "Uh, thanks for your time," she added, voice soft to try and smooth over Dean's rude behavior. "If there's anything else you remember, give us a call. We'll be in touch." She offered up half a smile at Harper's tight-lipped frown, and her feet carried her after Dean.

...

 **"C** eleste Middleton." Sam flipped through the folder as Dean drove the Impala down a rich suburban road, and Alex leaned forward over the seat to scan the loosely-padded file. "That's Charlie's real name. Guess she's looking for the person who, uh, destroyed her family."

Dean scoffed. "Can you blame her? You know, we just got to find her before she does something nobody can walk away from." He pulled the car up alongside the curb, eyes turning out to a large, brown home across the street, hidden by a oak fence, and Alex followed his gaze.

"That's her place?" She straightened the collar of her blouse as she looked out the window, and her question was confirmed when the engine shut off.

"Yeah, that's the place." Plastic crinkled as Dean tossed the plastic bag filled with his uneaten lunch into the backseat. "Fingers crossed we're not too late." He adjusted his tie and led the way out of the car, and Sam followed, lengthening his stride to take the lead.

Alex fell in step at Dean's side as they walked up to the front door, and she tried to peer in the side window, but thick purple drapes blocked her view. She frowned, unsure if anyone was home, but Sam knocked on the door, it opened almost immediately. "Barbara Cordry?"

The dark-haired woman regarded them carefully, eyes narrowing in displeasure at the sight of their suits. "Can I help you?"

Sam dug into his pocket for his badge, and Alex and Dean quickly did the same. "Yes. I'm Special Agent Gabriel. These are my partners, Special Agent Collins and Sheppard. May we come in?"

Barbara's eyes narrowed even further. "What is this about?"

"We have some questions about a drunk-driving case from a while back involving the Middleton family." Sam tucked his identification back into his suit pocket, shifting his weight as the short woman glared suspiciously up at him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Ma'am," Dean began, stepping forward to his brother's side. "If we could just —"

"Sorry." The councilwoman quickly cut him off with a firm shake of her head. "I'm still on vacation. Feel free to schedule an appointment with my assistant. She'll pencil you three in." She slammed the door shut, and Alex's lips pursed together in a deep frown.

"Wow." She stepped back so the Winchesters could move past to head back to the car. "Guilty much?"

"Oh yeah." Sam shook his head as he crossed the street, and he looked back towards the house as he circled around to the pasenger side door. "Well, bright side is Charlie hasn't been here yet. Maybe we can cut her off at the pass."

"Then we'll wait here." Dean slid into the car, and Alex tossed his sandwich over the seat to him as she slammed the door behind her. "Thanks." He unwrapped his lunch, grimacing at the leafy green vegetables that peaked out from beneath the whole wheat bread. "How long do you think we'll be here?"

"Don't know. Could be all night." Sam once again pulled out Charlie's old file and opened it up, and Alex rested her chin on the back of the front seat as she peered over his shoulder to read alongside him.

"What the hell is kale?" Dean's disgusted comment had the angel glancing over at him in time to see him drop his sandwich back onto his lap, tongue flicking out as he tried to rid himself of the taste.

"Wait, you're eating kale?" Alex reached down to poke at his food, and the Winchester slapped her hand away. "Dude, even for you, that's gross."

She glanced over at Sam, expecting a retort, but the Winchester seemed to be ignoring their conversation. " 'Anti-authority disorder, clinical depression, violent outbursts,' " he read, and he looked up with a shake of his head. "Charlie was, uh .."

"Dude. If a shrink interviewed us at the age, you think the report would be all kittens and rainbows?" Dean wrapped his meal back up and tossed it into the backseat. "Come on. She's a good kid. There's got to be an explanation for this, man. There's just got to be."

"Yeah, I guess." Alex undid the top button of her blouse and then reached down to roll up her sleeves, sinking back in her seat as she prepared to get comfortable. Something tingled in the back of her mind, something unpleasant, and the angel perked up moments before a scream rang through the air. "Sounds like we're about to find out, though."

The Winchesters were already out of the car by the time she had finished her words, and Alex followed after them. "Pip. Around back." Dean pointed off towards the backyard, and the angel nodded, reaching back to draw her angel blade as she slipped off around the side of the house. She let her grace snake out towards the perpetrator, a dark soul deep inside the home, and she paused beside the backdoor. It had been forced open and left ajar, and the angel drew her grace back in as she stepped in, moving silently on the wooden floor.

"Should have known Rocket and Groot would track me down." Charlie stood in the doorway, the redness of her shoulder-length hair a stark contrast to her black attire, and Alex stalked forward at the sight of the councilwoman held at knifepoint. Both faced the Winchesters, oblivious to the angel behind them, and Charlie let out a low chuckle at the sight of the hunter's guns. "Where's that pesky little angel?"

"Right here." Alex's voice had the two spinning around, the councilwoman pinned up against Charlie's chest, and the angel stepped forward to block any escape out the back. "I'm hoping that makes me Quill, by the way."

The redhead simply chuckled, but Sam spoke before she could retort. "Charlie, let her go."

"Who?" Charlie's grip on the knife tightened, and Barbara whimpered as the blade pressed tighter against her skin. "Oh, her?" The hand holding the knife balled into a fist as she punched the woman in the jaw, and the councilwoman cried out in pain.

"Don't do this." Sam's sharp command held the undertone of a plea, and Alex watched as Charlie's blue eyes flashed in amusement.

"I just want answers," she promised smoothly, and Alex shifted closer with a sidelong glance towards Dean, waiting for him to make the call.

However, for the moment, he seemed content to try and talk her down. "Yeah?" he challenged. "Since when do you start pounding on people for those? What the hell happened to you in Oz?"

"Everything I wanted." Charlie's eyes glinted again, this time with something dark, something almost malicious. "An adventure." She jiggled the knife, causing another cry of fear from the councilwoman, and she added, "Even got my own little sword."

"Alright, so let's put Sting down and have a talk." Alex stepped forward again, and she twirled her weapons in her hands. "Easy way or hard way. It's your call."

"Alex …" Sam's voice had her pausing, head snapping in his direction, and when hazel eyes met grey, he he shook his head.

"Oh, Sam, you're adorable." White teeth flashed in the dim light as Charlie grinned over at the Winchester. "It's good to know you're not gonna hurt me. In fact, that's your problem — all good-guy code, no bite. What a waste. And you two …" She let the knife swing away from the councilwoman only long enough to gesture to Dean and Alex. "Always letting this albatross hold you back."

"Okay, alright, you know what?" The sharpness in Dean's voice made it clear that the Winchester had had enough. "I don't know what's going on here, okay? But this — this is _not_ you."

"Oh, it's me, alright."

"Charlie, put the knife down. Let her go. We don't want to hurt you, kiddo, but we're not gonna let you do this." Dean's finger tightened on the trigger, and wariness danced across Charlie's pale face. The shifting of her feet on the hardwood floor was the only sign of flight before she shoved Barbara Cordry into Sam.

Sam stumbled to catch her, and then Dean was after Charlie, boots thudding against the ground in pursuit. Alex followed, stowing her weapon as she watched Dean do the same. "Stop!" she heard him yell, and the thud of bodies hitting the ground had the angel sliding around a corner. "Crap! Sam!"

Dean was on the ground, held in a triangle choke by the redheaded woman, and Alex threw herself at Charlie. "Hey!" Her voice caught the woman off guard, and Dean rolled to the side to escape the hold. Charlie rolled with him, ending up on top, fists balled, but before she could deliver a punch, Alex was there, tackling her away.

Charlie retaliated, feet lashing out, and Alex grunted as a heel caught her in the inner thigh. Her grip loosened, and the redhead pulled herself free and bolted out the door. "Shit!" She pushed herself to her feet, grimacing through the pain as she followed Dean out the door. "Charlie! Hey!"

A black van tore off down the road, tires squealing as it took the corner, and Alex watched it go until a loud, angry curse from Dean had her turning back. "Oh, you son of a _bitch_!" The Winchester's fist collided with the roof of the car, and he pointed down to the slashed front tire. "I — I just …" He trailed off, anger flushing his cheeks, and he swiped a hand through his short brown hair, too furious for words.

The honking of a car had them turning, and Alex felt her jaw fall open at the sight of a yellow Volkswagen. A familiar redheaded woman sat in the driver's seat, grinning up at them as she flashed them a peace sign. "What's up, bitches?" she greeted, voice light with cheer, but it faded as she saw their blank faces. "Right." Her blue eyes flickered over to Sam, who had run out of the house and skidded to a stop at the sight of her. "Um … we should probably catch up."

Realizing her mouth was still open, Alex snapped her jaw shut, teeth clicking from the force. "Charlie?" Dean's voice caught in his throat as he stared at the small redhead. "How —" He looked off down the street from where the black van had taken off. "You just —"

"Yeah … uh, like I said. We need to catch up." Charlie' gaze fell onto the Impala, and she grimaced at the sight. "Sorry about your tire." Neither brother immediately answered, and the woman's shoulders fell. "Uh, okay. Tell you what. Meet me at Berto's Ale House, okay? Because we definitely need to talk."

...

 **B** erto's Ale House was a quaint, well-kept bar on the corner of town, tucked between a grocery store and a lake. The parking lot was full with the midday rush, and Alex carefully sidestepped a couple as she followed Sam and Dean through the swinging door. Charlie was already two steps ahead of them, flouncing over to an empty table, and the young angel hesitantly climbed up onto the stool across from her. "Okay, uh, Charlie ... Second Charlie," she added after a moment's pause. "So, what exactly is going on here?"

Charlie smiled over at Alex, cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment, but she waited until Sam had sat down before she offered forth her explanation. "So, you may have already noticed, but there are sort of two of me." Her smile faded when it was met with the Winchesters' terse frowns, and she added, "One of them is bad — her — and one of them is good. Me."

"Yeah, what, dick you is some sort of a ninja?" Dean approached the table carrying drinks, scowling as he spoke.

"She is a badass, yeah." Charlie accepted her drink with a half-hearted smile, and Dean dropped down into his seat with a thud.

She opened her mouth, ready to say more, but Sam was faster. "O-Okay. Hold on, back up. We —" He motioned to himself and Dean — "were there for Dorothy, Oz, yellow brick road. B-but then …"

"War." Charlie's pale face darkened. "The war for Emerald City. It was awesome. Until … not so much. We were gonna lose, so I made a deal with the wizard … of Oz," she clarified for Alex, and the angel nodded; she'd figured that much. "He said for us to win, I had to unleash my true darkness, which he meant literally. He used the inner key of Oz. It opens a door to your soul and lets the darkness out." She motioned vaguely off into the distance towards her second half. "Uh, we're still connected physically. If you hurt her, you hurt me. But, bottom line, she's bad, and I'm good. And let me just tell you, being good is really annoying." Dean chuckled in agreement, and Charlie's eyes turned over her shoulder. "Normally in a place like this, I'd be pounding Harvey Wallbangers and checking out the bartender's ass." Her voice grew soulful as she added, "Now all I want to do is sip club soda and send her to college."

Alex followed Charlie's gaze back towards the young, dark-skinned barista, eyebrows cocked, and Dean cleared his throat to draw both of their attention back onto him. "Okay, uh … good Charlie. So, why is dark Charlie gunning for revenge?"

"She's trying to win me back." The response came reluctantly. "Dark Charlie won the war single-handedly. But … she did some truly awful things. I told her I didn't want any part of her near me again, ever. Going after the person who mur — mur …" Charlie hesitated, unable to even speak the word, and her jaw trembled momentarily before she steeled herself. "Who took my parents away is her messed-up way of showing me how close we are, or — or could be." She shook her head, her voice taking on a wistful vagueness. "I keep calling her 'she,' but she's me. I'm the one doing this."

"Whoa, whoa." Alex's sharp tone yanked the redhead out of her thoughts. "No. She — this dark Charlie — she's not you, okay? She's just some sick, twisted version —"

"Of me," Charlie finished, nodding affirmatively as if Alex had just agreed with everything she had said. "I've been following her so I can catch her before she does something stupid," she added to Sam and Dean. "If I'm lucky, I can lock her away forever."

"Uh, Charlie? That … that's not an answer." Sam looked over at his brother, searching for support, and Dean nodded out his agreement.

"Sam's right. We'll go back to Oz, and we'll — we'll get the key from the wizard of douche, and we'll put you back together."

He thudded the table with his palm, concreting his plan, but Charlie merely shook her head. "Even if I did want her back …" She reached into her pocket and placed a dark, intricately carved piece of wood in the middle of the table. "Look, dark-me broke the key. There's no way to get back to the wizard."

"Does she have the other half?" Alex pulled the key-piece closer, turning it over in her hands. "I-I mean, just superglue it back together, it'll be fine. Right?"

She met Charlie's offended stare with a shrug, and Sam quickly cleared his throat. "Okay, well, uh, first thing's first. We need to find dark Charlie before she finds the drunk driver. So, we know Barbara gave up her old bank statements, right? That means dark Charlie will probably follow the money back to whoever made the payoffs."

"That's what I would do," good Charlie confirmed.

"Alright." Sam reached down into his shoulder bag, rooting around for his laptop as Dean rose to his feet, empty water glass gripped tightly in his hands as he muttered out something about refills. "Charlie, we need you … to hack into Barbara's bank accounts."

He set his computer down on the table and slid it over to the redhead, and Alex watched as Charlie's eyes went wide. "I can't." She pushed the computer back to Sam. "I-It's bad. I told you — being good is annoying."

"Okay, uh how — how about this." Sam flipped open his laptop, fingers drumming on the table as he waited for it to wake up. "How about you guide me through the process, and then I'm the bad one?"

Hesitancy lined Charlie's face, but eventually she nodded, and Alex grinned. "Okay, awesome." The angel rose to her feet, reaching over to pat Sam on the shoulder as she scanned the bar. "I'm going to go find Dean and make sure everything's okay. You see what you can dig up."

She didn't wait for a response as she wove off through the crowd, neck craned as she tried to spot the tall hunter among the throng of strangers. "Dean?" She let her grace slip outwards in search of him, and she ducked between two men as she neared the bar. "There you are."

"Hey." Dean leaned back on his stool, his voice lifted above the crowd's murmur. "The geeks figure something out?"

Alex glanced behind her to see Charlie leaning forward as she spoke to Sam, guiding him through the hack. "Yeah," she agreed. "Charlie won't do it herself, but Sam got her to at least walk him through the steps." She watched as the bartender returned with Dean's drink, and she motioned down to the clear liquid. "Water, I hope."

Her response came as a cold grimace, and she patted the Winchester on the back. "You're doing good," she promised. "And once that thing's off, I'll take you out to get wasted, alright? And once you're passed out, I'll use what's left of my grace to take away that hangover." She patted him again, harder this time to show her amiability, and despite himself, Dean managed to chuckle.

"Deal." He grabbed his drink and rose to his feet. "Alright, let's see if Freaks and Geeks have found anything yet."

He led the way back through the crowd, dropping down next to his brother. "Okay." Sam leaned back, tilting his laptop screen so Dean could see, and Alex circled back around to her seat beside Charlie. "So, Barbara's payments all came from offshore accounts, which were routed through dummy corporations, which have all gone belly-up."

"Alright, skip to the end, dragon tattoo." Dean took a sip of his water before he pushed it away with a shake of his head.  
They all lead back to this guy?"

He pointed at the screen, and Alex craned her head to see the portrait of a man. "Russel Wellington." Sam nodded in agreement. "And according to his personal records, he had a car that was reported stolen the, uh, the week of the accident — a car that was never recovered. And after the supposed 'theft,' he went on a sabbatical for two weeks and turned to work with bruises and a broken ankle."

"Which sound sketchy at the best," Alex agreed. "Alright, so this is definitely the guy."

"The man who, uh …" Charlie trailed off, unable to finish her words, and Dean reached over to slam Sam's laptop closed.

"And … you're done." He pushed himself to his feet, beckoning Alex and his brother after him. "Can I speak with you guys for a moment?"

Sam nodded, rising to his feet, but Charlie quickly spoke up. "Hey, dudes. Dudes." Her words had them pausing, and she frowned. "Secrets are bad."

Alex met Dean's gaze, rolling her eyes around at the redhead's righteous words, and the Winchester heaved a sigh. "Charlie," he began, "I don't think you should be anywhere around this piece-of-shit salesman."

"And — and I don't think that finding dark Charlie and locking her up is gonna work," Sam added after a reluctant moment. "I mean, she may be … dark, but she's still a part of you."

Charlie's gaze fell onto the table, and for several seconds she was silent, deep in thought. "You're right." Her blue eyes turned up onto Sam. "I hate it, but you're right. Okay." She cleared her throat, giving a quick, firm nod of her head. "Let's go to the bunker. The Men of Letters used the key to Oz once. Maybe there's something in their files. If we can fix it, we can get back to Oz."

"Alright, you guys dig into that." Dean pointed to Alex, and the angel nodded. "Pip and I will keep an eye on Russel and, uh … wait for Dark Charlie to show up."

Sam glanced over at Alex, trepidation in his hazel eyes, and the angel nodded once again. "We won't hurt her," she promised the others. "And even though this Russel guy is a piece of shit, he doesn't deserve to die for it. I won't let anything happen," she added to Sam, and the hunter blinked in understanding.

"Okay, just remember. If dark Charlie gets hurt … then so does good Charlie."

"We'll be careful." Alex circled past Charlie, pausing at Sam's side to murmur, "I'll keep an eye on him." She glanced past him to make sure Dean didn't notice — the Winchester was already halfway to the door — and she added, "Drive safe. We'll be in touch," before she followed after Dean.

...

 **A** lex pulled her jacket tighter around her, cursing herself under her breath for not thinking to bring warmer clothes. The sun had set two hours ago, leaving the office complex enshrouded in darkness, and for the umpteenth time, the angel checked her phone. It was a few minutes past seven o'clock. Just like it had been what felt like half an hour ago. Alex threw her head back, groaning aloud as she leaned up against the Impala.

A semi rolled down the road, headlights cutting through darkening night, and Alex slipped away from the car to start on yet another loop around the building. Russell Wellington was inside, still working, and the angel stretched out her grace to feel Dean's soul in the building as well. It had moved from where it had been twenty minutes ago, no longer in the main lobby, and she circled alongside the long, cold brick wall with a scowl. Staying outside had sounded like a good idea back when it had been sunny, but with night setting in, all the angel wanted to do was curl up somewhere warm.

The sound of footsteps had Alex snapping out of her thoughts. She paused, dropping low, and her hand instinctivley went back for her weapon before she stopped herself with a shake of her head. No; she couldn't hurt Charlie, however evil she was.

She slipped around the corner of the building just in time to see a flash of red hair disappear through the back door. The angel didn't hesitate to follow, slipping in after her target. The hallway was dark, and Alex stretched out her grace curiously; the power was dead throughout the entire building. "Charlie?" Her voice echoed loudly through the empty halls, and the angel quickened her pace when no response came. "Charlie, we're not gonna let you —"

A foot came out of nowhere, and Alex barely ducked the roundhouse kick in time. She stumbled, regaining her balance as her back hit the wall, and her grace flared up to her eyes in surprise.

The woman was already halfway down the hall by the time Alex took off after her, cursing under her breath as she slid to a stop in the waiting room. Dean was standing there, gun raised at Charlie. "Hey," he warned, gaze flitting down to the knife in her hands, "Let's talk about this."

"You Winchesters and your talk." Charlie scoffed loudly. "Blah, blah, blah, repressed feelings. Blah, blah, blah, passive aggression."

"Come on, kiddo." Dean's voice sharpened in warning, but his finger slipped off the trigger to rest up against the barrel. "You don't want to do this."

"Oh, I don't want to hurt him." The redhead's gaze moved past Dean to rest on the closed door, and Alex flicked out her grace to feel a living soul in the room. "I just want to talk."

Dean snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, like you talked to the others?"

"You're right. I got out of hand." The quiet agreement had Dean's eyebrows lifting, and Charlie's gaze dropped down onto the knife before she looked back at Alex, face placid. "But this was never about revenge." She turned back to Dean when the Winchester scoffed. "I want him to see my face," she insisted. "I want him to see what he did to me … to us. That's all." She twisted the knife in her hand to extend the handle towards Dean. "Please. I deserve that. And then we hand him over to the cops."

She held out the knife, and Dean's green eyes flickered in unsurity. Alex slipped forward to take the knife, fingers deftly wrapping around the handle as she pulled it free of Charlie's grasp. At the same time, her grace slipped out, scouring the woman for the presence of any other weapons. "She's clean," she confirmed, "but I don't trust her."

Dean lowered his gun, motioning with the barrel towards the oen door. "Okay," he relented. "Keep the door open."

"Of course." Charlie's blue eyes revealed nothing as she nodded and stepped inside, and Alex ran a finger down the knife's blunt spine as she watched a man rise up from the desk, visibly trembling.

"You really trust her?" she murmured, turning her eyes away from the two in the office to look up at Dean.

"About as much as I trust myself," came the reply, and Alex frowned, unsure of its implications. She opened her mouth, ready to ask for clarification, but the office door suddenly slammed shut, and all that came out was a rushed, "Shit!"

"Charlie!" Dean sprang forward, shoulder pounding into the door as he tried to turn the handle, but it was locked from the inside. "Alex get this —"

Grace exploded outwards before the words even left his mouth, and the door shattered into a million peices. Splinters dug into her skin, and Alex flinched away as the windows blew inwards.

"Shit!" Dean's curse was drowned out by rushing wind, and Alex wrapped her hands around her head as she struggled to draw her grace back into her chest. It resisted, swirling through the air as it fought for its freedom, and the young angel grit her teeth as she forced it back under control.

A hand came down across her temple, a hard, angered slap, and Alex's grace snapped back inside of her chest. "What the fucking hell was that?"

"I don't … I …" Alex staggered back as her stolen grace pressed up against her ribs, and her eyes turned onto the office in front of her. A body was slumped on the floor in a pool of blood, and Alex's heart skipped a beat. "Charlie —"

"Charlie's gone." Dean stalked into the room, green eyes blazing. "She jumped out the window and ran." He pointed to a blood trail, and Alex's eyes dropped down onto Russell Wellington's body.

"Did … did I …"

"No. Charlie." Dean knelt to roll over the corpse, moving carefully to avoid the debris of glass and wood that covered the ground. A letter-opener was embedded in his chest, and despite the pang of relief that the murder had not been her fault, Alex still flinched at the lacerations across his face from the shattered windows. Dean kicked the corpse back into its original position as he rose to his feet, reaching into his pockets for his ringing phone. "Hey, Sam."

"Hey. What the hell just happened?" Sam's voice came across the line as his brother put him on speaker phone, and Alex winced again as she glanced towards the broken window. "Charlie's over here bleeding."

"Yeah, well you can thank Friendly Fire over here for that." Dean stalked towards the exit, and Alex followed, scowling at the obscure yet undoubtably derogatory nickname. "Russell's dead, by the way."

"Oh my God." Charlie's voice shook on the other end of the line, and Alex shoved her hands into her pockets as they exited the office building, and Sam added, "Did … did she …"

"No." Dean placed the phone onto the Impala's roof as he dug out his keys to unlock the car. "Dark Charlie showed up and killed Russell." He ignored Charlie's horrified gasp as he slid into the car, tossing the phone onto the dash. "Alex tried to unlock the door and ended up blowing it and the windows to peices." He reached up to touch his temple, and Alex grimaced at the blood on his fingers. She reached out, grace rising up, but Dean slapped her hand away with a noise of digust. "Don't even think about it," he warned, and the Impala roared to life. "What the hell was that, huh? It — it —" Dean hesitated, searching for a proper analogy. "It was like when Cas first pulled me out of hell," he finally said. "Like a fucking nuclear warhead."

"Seriously?" Sam's voice lifted, sharp with concern. "Are you sure you guys are okay?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about us." Alex's gaze dropped down to her arm, grimacing at the sight of a splinter embedded in the top layer of skin near her elbow. "What about you guys? Find a way back to Oz yet?"

She pulled the splinter free and tossed it out the window as she waited for Sam's response. "Maybe," the hunter finally admitted. "Uh, look, the Man of Letters who originally found the key — he's still alive. He lives in Junction City under the name Michael Carter. I'll text you and Dean the address. Just come meet us."

"Alright. We're on our way." Dean hung up the phone and tucked it into his pocket as the car tore off down the road.

"Hey, listen, Dean, I'm sorry …" Alex let her grace sneak out to stretch through her limbs, healing the abrasions one at a time. "I didn't mean to do that —"

"It's fine." Dean cut her off, and Alex looked up, surprised at his understanding. "Russell was dead already, and you didn't kill anyone. Hell, you've got a better track record than me for the past few months."

"I … that's not really a fair comparision." Alex's hands fiddled nervously in her lap, unsure how to approach the subject. "Those guys you killed, The Mark drove you to do it. Zuriel's grace … it's just straight-up uncontrollable no matter what I do. The more it burns away, the more difficult it becomes." Her gaze fell onto her lap, and she added, "Sometimes, when I try and use it, it feels …"

"Let me guess. Like you're strapped to a hurricane?" Alex nodded, and Dean turned the Impala into a parking lot. "Trust me, I get it. At least you know yours won't last forever.." The engine died, and the Winchester glanced up at the rearview mirror. "We've got a tail. Follow my lead."

Alex slid out of the car, eyes flashing in the moonlight as she looked for dark Charlie's black truck, but she kept her grace tucked deep inside. "Where?"

"Left. Come on." Dean crossed the parking lot towards Berto's Ale House, and Alex followed, fingers curling nervously in her jacke as she craned her ears to hear footsteps behind them. They pushed their way through the door, and Alex peeled awy from Dean, slipping off to the side. The Winchester was making a beeline for the bar, and the angel paused beside the bathrooms, leaning up against the wall so she could see both her charge and the door.

The bartender was bringing Dean a drink, but Alex didn't watch long enough to see the exchange as a flash of red caught her attention. Charlie was weaving her way through the crowd, circling around to Dean from the other direction, and Alex slipped away from the wall to follow her. "She's cute." Dark Charlie's casual remark could be heard over the crowd as she stopped at Dean's shoulder, blue eyes following the bartender away with barely disguised interest.

"You lied to me." The Winchester didn't look up, his fingers resting lightly on the side of his shot glass, and Alex bumped shoulders with the dark copy as she sat down on an empty stood, effectively sandwiching Charlie between the two of them.

If there was any outward display of nervousness at being cornered, Alex didn't catch it. "You lied to yourself," the redhead retorted. "That's kind of your move." She paused, carefully regardind Dean when no response came, and she added, "Something's off about you, though, isn't it? It's always something with you three."

"I've made mistakes. But I'll pay for mine." Dean's fingers tightened around his drink, and he finally looked up at Charlie, voice hardening in resolution. "And you'll pay for yours."

"Come on, Dean." Charlie's head tipped back in a scornful laugh, and Alex caught sight of the small cuts that decorated her pale skin from when the windows had blown in. "I'm not the monster here. He was. He got what he deserved. You know I'm right." Her voice lowered, growing in intensity, and Alex leaned closer to hear. "You know what I learned about being dark? It sets you free. And part of you knows that right, too."

"Sit down." Alex slid over a seat so the redhead could sit. "That kind of freedom — it only comes when you let go of everything. You need to take away your conscience — the very thing that makes you human — to get there, and that just makes you a monster."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" Charlie's eyes looked her up and down, and Alex felt herself straighten under her scrutiny. "About being a monster."

"I'm an angel," Alex retorted hotly, and Charlie waved the bartender over with a roll of her eyes. "Not a monster. There's a difference."

"Is there?" Charlie didn't give her time to answer the challenge before she slammed down the shot she had been brought, finishing with a loud, "Delicious."

"Alright, listen, Dark Charlie —"

"Oh, grow up." The redhead brushed off Dean's answer with a unamused scoff. "There's no right. There's no wrong. There's just us … and them."

"Yeah, well, lucky for us, there's not going to be a you for very much longer."

"Uh-oh." Charlie glanced over at Alex, blue eyes sparkling in amusement and scorn. "Did princess me find a way back to Oz?"

"Damn straight," Dean agreed, and Charlie's head swung back to him. "Yeah, a former Man of Letters retired in Grantville, two towns over. They're gonna fix the key to Oz, find the wizard, and put you back to where you belong."

"And Dean and I are the lucky few who get to babysit you until they get back," Alex finished, voice sharp with distaste. "So, buckle up, because it's going to be a fun night for all of us."

"Oh, is that so?" The redhead chuckled, and her eyes meandered over to the bartender as she hummed out a note of interest. "Well … hm. We'll just see, won't we? But, in the meantime …" She nodded towards the young barista, who was making her way into the back lounge area. "If neither of you are gonna ask her to dance, then I will."

She rose to her feet, and Alex watched her disappear through the doorway, a swagger in her step. "Think she's gonna stick around?" she finally asked once Charlie was out of earshot, sliding over a seat so she could be closer to Dean. "My bet's are on her running off to Grantville before the hour's up."

"Maybe." Unsurity lined Dean's voice, and his gaze dropped down onto his shot. "But who knows. Now that Russell's dead, who can say what her plans are."

"Hey. You gonna drink that?" Alex reached over for the shot of alcohol, moving slow in case the Winchester was dead set on drinking it, but when he merely leaned back, she slammed it down and slid the empty glass out of his reach.

"Hey." Dean looked up as the bartender reappeared, and his eyes flickered back towards the lounge. "What happened, did my friend strike out?"

"Your friend?" The bartender's lips twisted downwards into a confused smile as she tilted her head. "You mean the redhead? She just left out the back door."

Alex opened her mouth, ready for an 'I told you so,' but the roar of an engine had the words dying her her mouth. She knew that sound. The flash of surprise in Dean's eyes confirmed her fears, and she leapt to her feet and tore out towards the door. She was passed by the Winchester, his longer legs and stronger sense of urgency carrying him as fast as they could, and she slid to a stop by his side as the flash of familiar headlights tore past. The Impala's engine revved as it turned the corner, and Alex spat out a curse that was drowned out by Dean's "No, no, no!" He kicked at the curb, fists clenched in fury. "Oh, you son of a _bitch!_ Dammit!" He swiped a hand through his hair, green eyes darkening in the street light, and Alex dug her phone out of her pocket.

"I'm calling Sam," she told him, pressing her phone up against her ear as she waited for the Winchester to pick up. "It won't be long before Charlie realizes we sent her to the wrong town."

"Hello?" The other end of the phone clicked as Sam answered. "Alex? Where the hell are you guys?"

"Change of plans." Alex followed Dean deeper into the parking lot with a scowl. "Dark Charlie hot-wired the Impala, and she's on her way to you." She put the phone on speaker and held it out between her and Dean as she added, "Don't worry. We told her the wrong place, so that'll buy us some time, but she's dead set on stopping you."

"Be on the lookout," Dean added, tugging on a door handle of a white sedan before he moved onto to the next. "We'll be there as soon as I jack a ride."

"Okay, thanks. Hurry." Sam hung up, and Alex tucked her phone back into her pocket as Dean tried another door. She snuck her grace out, undoing the latch, and the door swung open. "There." Her grace undid the passenger door, and she circled around to climb in as Dean ducked into the driver's seat. "Let's get this show on the road."

...

 **T** he sedan rolled to a stop beside a two-story home, and Alex's eyes turned onto the yellow Volkswagen that was parked in the driveway. "This is definitely it," she confirmed as she got out of the car, and Dean grunted out his agreement. "Take the lead. I've got your back… ah shit." She turned at the sound of the Impala's engine, a scowl on her face.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, and he reached back to draw his gun as Dark Charlie stepped out of the car.

"I figured you'd lie about where to go next." Charlie sauntered forward, her pale lips turning up into a cold smirk. "That's what I would do."

"What the hell do you want?" Dean spat, and he shifted so he stood between Charlie and the door. Alex did the same, moving at Dean's side, and she carefully let her grace rise up so her eyes glowed a threatening blue.

Charlie hesitated, eyes narrowed as she sized up the two hunters, and she stretched out her hands in a nonthreatening gesture. "I just want to talk to her," she promised.

Alex scoffed. "Right. Just like you talked with Russell? You're not going anywhere near her, you hear me?" Charlie moved closer, and she lifted her chin. "Take one more step forward, and we'll have to stop you."

"You think you'll have the stomach for that?" Charlie next step twisted into a kick, and Alex ducked as Dean lunged forward. The Winchester blocked the blow, twisting to dodge a well-timed punch, and Alex tore her gaze away from the fight as a gunshot came from the house. It was immediately followed by a green glow.

"You hit like a little girl who never learned how to hit —" Dark Charlie cut off with a grunt, and Alex flinched at the blow that landed on her jaw. "That's it, big boy." The redhead fell back into a defensive stance, eyes flashing in glee. "Let it all out."

"Dean, be careful!" Alex's feet carried her backwards as she hurried towards the house, leaving the two scuffling in the dirt. "Sam!" She burst through the door, sliding to a stop as she took in the scene before her. Sam was on the ground, his eyes bulging as he choked around thin air, and Alex's grace reared up in anger. It spiraled outwards, crashing into a masked stranger on the other side of the room, and the Winchester gasped as the man flew back into the wall.

Charlie was on the ground, eyes watering as she clutched her bloody nose, and two steps carried Alex over to her side. "I'm sorry." The angel dropped down onto her knees, two fingers resting against the redhead's temple, and the woman flinched away as a dark bruise magically flowered out from around her eye. "This might hurt."

Her grace snapped out, and Charlie collapsed onto the ground, eyes rolling into the back of her head as she fell into unconsciousness. A thud from outside signaled dark Charlie's collapse as well, and Alex pushed herself back to her feet, eyes darting between the stranger across the room and the old man laying by the wall. "Hey." She waved Sam to her feet, pointing to the two men. "Who are these guys?"

She turned back to Sam, confusion darkening her face, but Sam didn't have the chance to answer movement flashed in the corner of Alex's eye.

She spun around to see the Wizard, and her grace lashed out, catching him midair and twisting in rage. The man's body convulsed, face contorting in agony, and he fell to the ground as the light died from his eyes. The sound of his pain was masked by the cry of the old man on the ground, his own body twisting as his bones broke, and the two men died with the same strangled gasp.

"Oops." Alex scratched her head as she stared down at the two dead bodies. "They …"

"Yeah." Sam's voice cracked, and he took a moment to steady it. "He's the Man of Letters who found the Key to Oz. That … he used the key on himself, and his dark half became the Wizard of Oz."

"Oh." Alex cocked an eyebrow as she studied the dead wizard. "Not gonna lie, but I prefer the Frank Morgan version."

"Hey." Dean slid to a stop in the doorway, green eyes flashing as he took in the scene before him. "What the hell happened in here? Charlie collapsed."

"I put the both of them to sleep." Alex stepped over Clive's body to nudge at the Wizard. "Also I killed these guys. Him on accident," she added quickly, pointing to the older man before toeing the dead wizard one more time. "This one on purpose."

Sam's brow furrowed together as he looked down at the carnage, and two steps took him to Alex's side. He dropped down, rolling the Wizard over, and Alex shifted back as he pulled a wooden key out of the man's cloak. "Here. We need this to put Charlie back together. Get the door."

He scooped Charlie up into his arms, and Dean visibly winced at her black eye and split lip, his face darkening in shame as he hurried to hold open the door so Sam could carry her outside. Alex followed more slowly, taking one last look back at the house before she jumped down the stairs.

Dark Charlie lay in the grass, limp and unconscious, and Sam knelt to lay the two redheads side by side. He placed the wooden key into Charlie's hands, tucked in between her fingers, and Alex's eyes narrowed as blue light arose from the wooden etchings, twisting through the air to wrap its tendrils around both Charlies. The air glowed as the tendrils thickend, tightening around the separate halves, and eventually even the angel had to flinch away as the light grew to bright for her eyes. When it faded, only one remained.

"Charlie?" Sam dropped to the woman's side, fingers gripping her face as he checked for any signs of life. "Alex. When will she wake up?"

"I-I don't know." The young angel gave a hesitant shake of her head. "My grace … with the way it's been acting, there's no telling how long she'll stay out. Five minutes, an hour. Maybe a day. Maybe ... maybe a month."

Sam glanced over at his brother, a grim line on his face, and Dean buried his bloodied knuckles in his pockets with a shake of his head. "We'll take her back to the bunker until she wakes up," he decided. He stepped back as Sam scooped Charlie back up into his arms, and Alex shifted closer to his side when the Winchester didn't follow after his brother. "Hey, uh." Dean reached out when Alex tried to step past him, and the angel drew back, chin lifted as she prepared for a reprimand. "I just wanted to say you made the right call back there, with Charlie."

Alex shrugged, eyes flickering towards Sam, who was gently sliding Charlie into the back seat. "I just didn't want you to slip," she admitted with half a shrug. "If you accidently killed Charlie, you'd never forgive yourself. If I did it …" She shrugged again. "I think could live with that, for how long I have left."

"No, you couldn't." The car door slammed as Sam approached, and Alex spun around, eyes widening to find that the tall hunter had heard. "You can't just not care that you kill someone because of your deal." A finger jabbed into her chest, and Alex shoved his hand away with a frown. "What's been up with you recently? When did you just give up?"

"I didn't give up. I'm just facing reality, Sam. I've got a year left, and unless Cas miraculously manages to find our grace, which may or may not still be out there, there's no way to stop it. So there's no reason for me to care anymore about who I kill." The angel stepped back to put space in between herself and them as she steeled her gaze. "Don't get me wrong," she was quick to added, voice cold and firm. "This isn't me being sociopathic, okay? Life — it's still important. But if it comes down to them or you, you two are my priority. I-If I have to kill the fucking Wizard of Oz to save Sam, sure. Or accidently kill Charlie to keep Dean from drinking himself to death? In a heartbeat." She lifted her chin as she regarded to the two brothers, discomforted at how their expressions remained frustatingly unreadble. "Okay?"

"Okay." Unsurity lined Sam's voice, but he manged to keep it steady. "It's just … you know we're not just going to let you die, right? Once we find a way to get rid of the Mark, we'll break your deal or find your grace — whatever it takes."

"Or, uh, even better, icing Crowley will be part of the cure," Dean added, and despite herself, Alex managed an amused grin. "Two for one."

"Alright. If you guys want to fight that battle, you can. I'm just saying that I've made my peace with all of that." Alex stepped off towards the car with a shrug. "Anyways, we should get back to the bunker. Who knows when Charlie is going to wake up."

...

 **A** lex curled up in the wooden chair the best she could, leaning back to tuck herself into Sam's solid side. The bunker was quiet, the underlying hum of the building resting beneath the rustle of pages and Sam's steady breathing. The angel's grace rested within her, sulking sullently deep in her chest, but she refused to let it out; it hadn't seen the light of day since they had returned from Junction City. Her eyes flickered over to Dean, who was seated at the other end of the table, head bowed as he stared blankly at a book.

"Hey." Sam suddenly jerked up, and Alex scrambled into a sitting position, eyes stretched wide in surprise at the reaction. "I think I found something."

"Think you found something or know you found something?" The angel rubbed at her tired eyes, her voice unintentionally sharp at having been shaken from comfortable position. "Because you said the same thing three hours ago and it was nothing."

"No, no. Like, I actually might have found something." The Winchester leaned forward to stare more intentionally at the page, finger running across the ink as he spoke the words outside. "The Book of of the Damned. Ever heard of it?"

Alex shook her head, and Dean agreed with a vocalized, "No, never. What is it?"

"A lore book, apparently. Uh, there's not much about it here, but it looks like it's been used for a ton of dark magic." He looked up, guarded excitement in his gaze. "If there's ever going to be a way to remove the Mark, this would be the place to start."

"Okay. So where's it at?"

"Tuscany." Some of the excitement died, and Sam's shouldesr slumped forward. "Which is really ... really far away."

Dean and Alex exchanged looks, and the short-haired Winchester offered up a sympathetic frown. "We'll keep looking into it," he promised. "Let's see what else I can find."

Alex's phone rang, and the angel jumped to her feet when she saw the name on the screen. "Cas." The angel grinned as she answered, and she crossed to the corner of the room, voice lowering so the Winchesters couldn't hear. "How are you? Is Metatron okay?"

"Metatron's fine. I'm working on mending relations with heaven." Castiel's voice was thin, but after a second or two's pause, it warmed. "Things have been going well. What about you? Sam said you three were looking into something with Charlie."

"Yeah, that'd be right." Alex leaned up against a pillar, free hand shoved into her pocket as she glanced back towards the brother. "Charlie's okay — unconscious still, but okay." She lowered her voice even further as it took on a remorseful tone. "Zuriel's grace is insane. I tried to pick a lock and ended up blowing a room to bits. It's been two days since I knocked Charlie out and she's _still_ sleeping. I — I'm not even going to try to wake her back up."

"I'm sorry. Angels aren't meant to steal others' grace — the more incompatible they are, the more volitile they'll become as they decay. We've been lucky that Theo's and Adina's grace were similar enough to our own that they had no siginificant side effects."

"Great." Alex resisted the urge to scowl. "It probably doesn't help that without it I'm human through and through. How do I make it stop?"

"I don't know." The seraph's head shake could be heard in his words, and Alex's shoulders fell in disappointment. "How is Dean doing? Is the Mark still affecting him?"

"Ih, he's … he's doing better, I guess. He's calmed down for the moment, but … who knows how long that'll last, you know?" Alex slumped up against the walls, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of her nose. "I'm doing what I can, but there's only so much I can do from the outside. We need to find Cain or — or something."

"I know. And we will. When you find something, give me a call, and I'll come."

"Alright. Sounds good to me." A small smile tugged up on her lips, and Alex didn't try to hide it. "Hopefully I'll see you before then, of course."

'Of course," Castiel agreed. "Once I have a moment to spare, I'll come by the bunker. If I'm lucky, it will be before the end of the week."

"Awesome. I'll keep the lights on." The sound of footsteps approaching had the angel's head snapping up in surprise. "Hey, I got to go. Love you, bye." She hung up as Castiel echoed back the goodbye, shoving her phone into her pocket as she turned to face a bleary-eyed Charlie. "Hey! You're awake."

"Uh, hey." Sam jumped to his feet, simultaneously echoing Alex's surprise. "You're up. How are you feeling?"

"Uh … tired?" Charlie's blue eyes swept across the three of them, lingering on Alex for a moment longer before turning back to Sam. "My phone says that I've been out for — for two whole days. What the hell happened?"

"Sorry," Alex apologized, toe scuffing at the polished floor. "I didn't mean to put you out for so long, but it seemed the best way to put, uh, dark Charlie out. You … are you …?"

"Good?" Charlie finished. "Bad?" She shrugged, reaching up to thumb at the scab on her lip, left there by Dean's fist. "I think I'll just settle for balanced." Her gaze flickered over to Dean, and Alex followed her gaze just in time to watch the Winchester's attention fall back down onto his book. "Anything about the Mark?"

"Uhh, yeah, maybe." Some of the residule excitement crept back into Sam's voice. "I found this book. It's a lore book — 'The Book of the Damned.' It's in a lirary somewhere in Tuscany. It might be a dead end, but I figured …"

"I'll go check it out." Charlie adjusted her bag that was slung over her shoulder, tone leaving no room for questioning, and when Sam tried to protest, she added, "Look. There's no going back to Oz. And with the Wizard gone, Dorthy will be fine."

Sam nodded in sympathetic understanding, and Alex sunk down into her chair, dropping her phone down beside her laptop. "And what about —"

"Dark Charlie?" Once again, Charlie finished Alex's thought. "She's, uh … quiet." Her gaze darkened, drifting downwards as her bottom lip trembled, but the mood lasted only a moment before she reined it back in. "I just got to keep moving forward. We all do." She crossed the room to stand at Dean's side, a thin hand resting on the Winchester's broad shoulder. "We're going to fix this," she promised, fingers moving down to wrap around the Mark, hidden by his sleeve. "I'm not letting what happened to you happen to me."

Her gaze moved over to Alex, and the angel looked away, fingernails scrapping against the table as she curled her fists. "I think it's already happened," she heard Dean murmur, and Alex shifted in her seat.

"Well, Cain found a way to live with it." A hand came to rest on her own shoulder, and Alex looked up into Sam's darkened face. "We'll find a way to stop it," he promised Charlie. "Just be careful out there, okay?"

"Does that sound like either of me?" Charlie grinned at her own joke, and she ran a hand through her hair as she chuckled before promising, "If I find something, I'll call. If not … I'll just keep digging." She waited for Sam to nod before she flashed them a peace sign. "Arrivederci, bitches."

Her footsteps faded as she disappeared up the stairs, and Alex watched her go until the heavy metal door swung shut with a clang. "I'm glad she's okay." The angel leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms up over her head as she grinned in relief. "I was afraid she was never going to wake up."

Sam sank down into chair beside her, and Alex drew her arms back in. "Here." The Winchester slid a book close to her, and Alex half-heartedly lifted up the cover. "You see what you can find about this Book of the Damned. I'm going to see what I can find about breaking your deal."

"That's not — the Mark comes first, Sam." Alex reached over to try and shove the book away, but Sam caught her wrist in his iron girp. "My deal can wait."

"We've got a lead on the Mark. There's nothing we can do with that right now." Sam pushed her back, his shove gentle yet firm. "Let us help, won't you?" He watched as Alex's face darkened, and he squeezed her wrist before letting it fall. "That's what family does."

Alex let her hand fall back into her lap, letting her shoulders fall in defeat. "Fine," she relented sharply, and she snatched up one of the books from the pile in front of her. "Fine," she repeated, softening her voice. "See what you can find. But if this Book of the Damned is a lead, it takes precedent, okay?" She waited for Sam to nod before she pushed herself to her feet. "Okay. Good. In the meantime, I'm going to go take a shower." She watched as Sam's attention fell back down onto his book, and she reached out to squeeze his shoulder, a quick, silent word of thanks, before she disappeared off down the hall.


	13. About a Boy

**AHHHH! I uploaded this chapter on Tuesday, but I forgot to actually post it! I'm so sorry hahahaha. This is the last chapter for a while, and I will be back in a month or so to finish up season 10! Thank you for reading, I really appreciate all of the support!**

* * *

...

 **Lebanon, Kansas**  
 **April 7th, 2015**

 **T** he small lamp cast shadows throughout the dark room, the pale yellow light swimming as Alex watched it through half-closed eyes. Her head was resting on Castiel's chest, fingers playing mindlessly with the striped tie as the seraph's hand curled loosely in her blonde hair. She could feel his heart thudding inside his chest, which barely moved as he breathed, and the angel let out a contented hum as she shifted closer against his side. "How long are you planning to stay?"

Her words seem to shake Castiel out of his trance, and his hand moved to gently stroke her back as he thought. "The angels are expecting me back tomorrow," he finally admitted, and Alex pressed her cheek more firmly against his ribs. "But if you need me to stay longer, I will."

"I wish you could stay another day." Alex gave the tie a sharp, distasteful tug. "As much as I love this place, it's no fun when you're not around."

"I understand how you feel." Castiel shifted so he was leaning up against the headboard, and Alex sat up on her heels. "You mentioned that your grace was acting up during your last hunt. Is everything okay?"

"No." Alex's head tipped back as she laughed at the innocence in his question. "Cas, my grace is still totally insane. I swear, any time it touches anything, it either explodes or self-immolates." Alex let her grace creep out as she pointed towards a piece of paper that stuck out of the garbage can. "Watch." She stretched out towards it, and the moment her grace touched the scrap, it reacted, and the paper exploded into a ball of flames. The fire spread to the rest of the trash, and Alex drew her grace back in as she felt Castiel's stretch out past hers, a cool contrast, and the fire died away under his control.

The seraph's hand came to rest on her shoulder, drawing her close, and Alex leaned back into his chest, eyes squeezed shut in frustration as she buried her face into his shirt. "It's okay." Castiel's grace wrapped around her, holding her tightly, and his lips pressed up against her temple. "It will burn away before long, and until then, you just have to be careful."

Alex laughed at his obvious advice, and she reached up to wrap a hand around the back of his neck, fingers tracing the small bumps of his vertebrae. "No shit, Sherlock." She leaned up to kiss him, chuckling against his lips before she pulled back away. "It doesn't like to be sidelined, but … but it's easier to control than when I let it out."

"Metatron insists that our grace survived and that he knows where it is." Castiel's voice was thick with concentration, and Alex sat up with a small frown. "Unfortunately, he's been less than cooperative as of late."

A knock on the door had him falling silent, and Alex reluctantly shifted so she sat at Castiel's side, legs folded up beneath her as she lifted her voice. "Yeah, come in."

The door swung open to reveal Sam, and the Winchester cleared his throat as he stepped over the threshold, reaching over to flick on the lights to illuminate the two angels. "Uh, sorry, uh, sorry to interrupt, but I found a case," he began slowly, and Alex shoved a leather-bound book onto the floor as she stretched out her legs. "Apparently someone is taking people and leaving their clothes."

"Huh. You asked Dean yet? Seems like his sort of gig." Alex laughed at her own joke, but when Sam didn't share in her amusement, her grin faltered. "He said no?"

"No, no, he's game." If something was bothering him, the Winchester shook it off. "We're leaving in half an hour if you're interested in coming with."

"Huh." Alex looked over at Cas, but the seraph's expression was unreadable. "We'll have to talk things over, but I guess I could probably go. Where's it at?"

"Pendleton, Oregon." Sam glanced at Castiel before his eyes momentarily flickered to the ground. "Like I said, we're leaving in half an hour. Let us know." He stepped back out of the room and closed the door behind him, and Alex waited until it had clicked back into place before she turned to her mate.

"You should go with." Castiel swung his legs over the side of the bed as he sat up more fully, and Alex moved to sit back at his side. "Like I said, the angels are expecting me back soon, and it will be good for you to get back out. It's been a week since you last left the bunker."

"I didn't have a reason to leave after you showed up," Alex teased, but when her humor fell on deaf ears, her shoulders slumped. "You should talk to the angels about letting me back into heaven," she decided, toeing at the fallen book. "They look up to you; there's got to be some way to convince them that I'm on their side." She bumped shoulders with her mate as she grinned. "That was one of the first things I ever said to your face, wasn't it? That I was on your side."

Castiel's head turned to face her, his blue eyes crinkling into something akin to amusement. "If I remember correctly, you said that as part of a threat."

"Yeah, well, context aside." Alex jumped off of the bed to grab her duffle bag, tossing it beside her mate as she started scavenging for her things. "Point is I'm here for their greater good, and they need to take their head out of their asses to see that."

"I … I don't think they would be appreciative to hear it in those particular words." Castiel's decision came slowly, filled with hesitation at the prospect of contradicting her, and Alex shot him a half-hearted grin to console him. "I will talk with them, though," he finished. "Perhaps an agreement can be reached."

"Thank you." Alex leaned over to kiss him, fingers digging into his jawline as she held him still. "That's all I ask." The sound of a thud from down the hallway had her pulling away, and she glanced off towards its source. "Sounds like Dean's getting ready to go."

"I'll leave you to pack." Castiel rose to his feet, pausing to kiss her one more time before he crossed over to the door. "Let me know when get back. Perhaps I can find the time to stop by again."

"Alright." Alex watched as he opened the door, and she couldn't help the disappointment that tugged at her heart. "Well, I'll text you when we arrive, I guess." The seraph nodded and stepped out into the hall, and Alex called out a, "Love you," as he disappeared from sight, and, when her farewell was returned, tossed a shirt onto her bed. She was trading Castiel for a drive out to Oregon. What a mistake.

...

 **A** lex followed Sam out of the Impala, shoulders rolling back as she suppressed a shiver at the blast of cold, damp wind. The sky above was grey, promising showers later on, and the angel fell in step alongside Dean with a tight grimace. A man stood outside a bar, a half-filled shopping cart at his side. A worn jacket covered several layers of shirt, and brown eyes flickered nervously around. "Mr. Milton?" Sam approached the man, clearing his throat as he held up his identification. "We talked earlier on the phone? I'm Special Agent Roark. We're here about J.P's disappearance." The homeless man nodded in earnest, and Sam tucked his badge back into his pocket. "The police said you were a witness. Do you mind telling us what you saw?"

"Well, I was around back when he was tossed out of the bar, you see." Al Milton shifted nervously as he regarded the three of them, his fingers opening and closing as he launched into his tale. "I was just going through the trash — they just throw these bottles out, you see — and I could hear these two guys really going at it. Something about money? Well, this J.P. guy was tossed out a-and he walked around that way." The man pointed off towards the side of the bar. "And then — then — then there was this bright light, and — bam — the dude's just gone. Nothing left but, uh …"

'Cheap suit and a pair of florsheims?" Dean finished, and Milton nodded.

"Was there anyone else that you saw?" Alex pressed, and the man shook his head. "Anything strange or out of the ordinary? Maybe a, uh, chill? Or did you smell anything like rotten eggs?" She shoved her hands into her pocket, head tipped curiously as she waited for Al to answer.

"What?" The homeless man's brow furrowed before his fingers snapped in realization. "No, I, uh … I smelled flowers, though."

"You smelled flowers?" Sam repeated, and Al nodded vigorously. "W-What kind of flowers?"

The man's eyes squinted again as he thought, lips pursed as he reached back into his memory. "Flowery flowers," he finally decided.

"Flowery ... flowers," Sam repeated, and Alex glanced up to see annoyance etched deep into his face.

"Look." Milton sighed as he shook his head up at Dean. "We all know what's going on here, okay? Aliens." Alex heard Dean groan from beside her, but the homeless man continued on as if he hadn't heard. "Dude was abducted," he insisted. "Believe me, I know." His brown eyes turned up onto the sky as he shivered. "May, 2003. Those suckers, they grabbed me, and they probed me everywhere."

"Okay." Dean took a step back, disbelief flattening his voice, and Alex followed him, face twisting in disgust as she put as much distance between her and the witness as she could. "Thanks for your time," she heard Sam add, backing away alongside his brother, but Milton wasn't finished.

"I'm talking everywhere," he insisted, gripping his cart tightly as his voice lifted to follow them.

Sam flashed him a hesitant thumbs up, turning his back to the man as he lengthened his stride. Alex followed, doing her best to avoid looking back as Dean scowled. "Well, the wheels just came flying off _that_ bus," he grumbled.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Well, no cold spots means it probably wasn't a ghost."

"And no sulphur means no demons," Alex finished. "But blue light … that could mean angels, but I don't know why they're nabbing people and leaving their clothes. Cas said they're mostly focused on heaven right now."

She ignored how Dean made a face at the possibility of angels, focusing instead on Sam's thoughtful expression. "True," he agreed, "or it could be faires."

"Ugh." This time, Dean vocalized his disdain. "I'd rather have the little green dudes." He paused beside the Impala as he looked up at the bar, fingers drumming on the black hood as he thought.

Sam followed his glance before he cleared his throat. "Alright, I'll go scope out J.P's place. You — uh, you ask around inside. I'll take Alex — unless you want her," he was quick to add, and Alex cocked an eyebrow as she looked over at Sam. "It's totally your call."

Dean was silent for a few seconds, green eyes staring distantly towards the bar, and it took him several seconds before he shook his head. "You know what?" he decided. "I'll be fine. You two go and check out the house." He glanced down at Alex, promising, "I can handle a little twenty questions with the locals, okay?"

"Like Sam said, it's your call." Alex shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets as she circled around to the passenger side of the car. "You seem to have things under control for the most part. Just give me a call if you need us."

"Sure thing." Judging by Dean's tone, calling for help wasn't much of a possibility, and Alex sighed as she pulled open the car door. "Let me know what you find." He held out the keys to his brother before he straightened up and strolled off towards the bar.

Sam circled around to the driver's side, and Alex reached for her seatbelt as the car purred to life. "Think he'll be okay?" she heard Sam ask, and she drew her gaze off of Dean to shrug.

"Like I said, he's been doing pretty good recently," she repeated. "Besides, it's not like we're sending him off to hunt something down. He's just going to ask around for a bit before we reconvene. He can handle it." She reached into the backseat to retrieve the folder they had picked up at the police station earlier, flipping through the pages to find the address of their missing victim. "Alright, he lives in an apartment building on Century," she announced as the car lurched forward into traffic. "If we're lucky, we'll be there and back before Dean even has the chance to go looking for trouble."

...

 _ **T**_ _he apartment, as it turned out, wasn't much of a lead at all._ Those words echoed through Alex's head as she climbed into the Impala, suppressing a shiver as she glanced back towards the darkened, grimy apartment complex behind them. "You okay?" Sam's hand on her shoulder had her jerking back in surprise, and the angel brushed his hand off with a roll of her eyes.

"No, I'm not okay," she retorted hotly. "When the landlord said J.P. was a 'collector,' I was thinking antique dolls. Not —  
not everything." Another shudder passed through her, followed by a twisting of her stomach that threatened to turn into nausea. "How can anyone live in that? That bathroom was … it was —"

"Like 'staring into the devil's butthole.' " Sam finished, and he grimaced alongside her as he started up the car. "Yeah. The landlord wasn't lying about that part."

"And I'm still covered in cat hair." Alex reached down to brush off her jeans, swallowing back the bile that rose in her throat as she remembered the apartment's stench. "And you know what? I-I didn't see a single cat. Not one cat, Sam. They — they're probably _buried_ somewhere, slowly mummifying —"

"Okay, okay. That's enough." Sam's nose wrinkled, and Alex mimicked his expression with a gag. "I get the point." He turned the car onto the main street, and Alex crossed her arms as she looked out the side window. "Maybe Dean will have found something by now."

"He didn't have anything twenty minutes ago when you called him," the angel reminded. "If his day's been anything like ours, he still hasn't found anything." She caught sight of Sam's raised eyebrow, and she sighed. "You're right. There's no way his day could be worse than ours. He's probably halfway to getting laid."

Sam gave no reaction, and Alex toyed with the seatbelt as the car pulled up into the darkened parking lot of the old bar. She followed Sam out of the car, dropping the ball of fur she had collected onto the rough pavement. "You find Dean," she instructed as they entered through the door. "I'm going to buy a drink."

She didn't wait for a response before she dug a twenty out of her pocket and approached the counter. "Captain and Coke," she ordered, "easy on the Coke." She leaned up against the bar, eyes sweeping the room as she searched for Dean. Sam stood a few feet off, an expectant frown on his lips, and, after a second, he reached into his pockets and pulled out his phone.

"Here you go." Her drink was slid over to her, and Alex nodded in thanks as she dropped her money down on the polished wood, and one step carried her in Sam's direction. Her movement faltered, however, at the sound of Dean's phone from directly behind her.

She took a sip of her drink as she turned, expecting to see her friend, but the only person there was the bartender. His attention was on a jacket lying at his side, and as Alex watched, he pulled out Dean's phone, silenced it, and tucked it back into the jacket pocket with a shrug.

Her weapon was out before she had even processed it, and her fingers tightened on the slick glass of her drink as she stepped back up to the bar. "Hey," she demanded, and she felt Sam stop at her side. "Where'd you get that jacket, pal?"

The bartender chuckled, and he pushed the coat out of sight under the bar. "My Bar Mitzvah," he lied, and he circled around to stand in front of Alex. "It was a magical night."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, I bet." Alex stepped back as Sam surged forward, slamming the man's face down into the sturdy bar, and he gripped him by the neck as the bartender cried out in surprise. "Why don't you try that again?"

"D-Dumpster." The bartender gripped his nose, blood seeping through his fingertips, and Alex tipped back her drink, slamming the empty glass back down on the bloody bar. "Found it by the dumpster."

"Alright." Sam stepped away, and Alex followed him back out the bar and around the side. Her feet slipped slightly on the damp grass, and the angel hid her weapon as they skirted the wooden fence to stand by the dumpster. She stepped back into the alley, grace rising hesitantly to her eyes as she tried to see what lay in front of her; she immediately drew it back in, however, when she heard the dumpster's side crumple as her grace raced outwards in an uncontrollable burst.

"Sorry," she muttered, and she retreated back to stand at Sam's side, grace curled in at her chest. She circled around the dumpster, banging on the metal sides as she peered down into the interior. "See anything?"

When Sam didn't respond, Alex returned to him, drawing a small flashlight out of her pocket to shine it on the grass. "Alex …" The Winchester was crouched, a shoe in his hand, and he brushed off a fine layer of yellow dust.

"Sulphur?" Alex dropped down next to him, concern prickling at her chest as her light illuminated the white handle of Dean's engraved Colt 1911. She snatched up the gun, popping out the magazine to count the bullets inside. "This wasn't fired."

"It's … pollen?" Sam lifted his fingers, and Alex leaned forward to sniff at the yellow powder. "Flowers."

"Okay, so … not demons." The angel's face wrinkled in confusion. "Pagan god or witches?" Alex pushed herself to her feet, and Sam did the same, tightly grasping his brother's shoe in his hand. "So, whatever is doing this is taking people in a flash of blue light and leaving behind pollen and … their clothes." She tucked Dean's gun into her jacket pocket with a shake of her head. "I'll go grab Dean's jacket and phone. Meet me in the car."

She brushed past the Winchester and stalked back into the bar, slipping through the gathering throng til she reached the bar. She snatched the jacket off of the bar, digging through the pockets to make sure everything was there. The bartender was standing off to the side, watching her with a scowl as he nursed his broken nose, and the angel tossed her head as she stalked back outside.

...

 **A** lex peered out through the blinds of the motel window, cautiously letting her grace rise to her eyes as she stared into the darkness. The parking lot was empty, with no signs of life, and the angel grunted in disappointment. She struggled with the lifeforce inside of her, aiming to quell it before it broke free and stretched out into the world, and the blinds fell together with a clack as the grace finally settled back in her chest, curled up in a tight, unmoving ball. "Anything out there?"

Sam was reclined on the bed, unaware to the angel's internal struggle as he posed the question, and she shook her head as she crossed the room to sit back at his side. "Nothing," she confirmed, unable to keep the note of disappointment and worry out of her voice. "I don't know if he's dead, or if he's unconscious, or if he's just not praying to me — or m-maybe I can't — maybe I can't hear prayers with this grace." She fell back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." The keyboard clacked as Sam continued his search. "If it's any consolation, there's a good chance he's not dead."

"What do you mean?" Alex pushed herself up into a sitting position, leaning up against Sam's shoulder as she looked down at the computer screen. The headline of the website read _Yarrow and Transfiguration Spells_ , but that was all she caught before the Winchester scrolled down through the page.

"That pollen we found. I think it's yarrow," he explained. "It's one of the main ingredients in spells that have to do with some sort of metamorphosis or, uh, transfiguration."

"So you think a witch turned Dean into a frog?" Alex's face scrunched up as she tried to picture the mental image. "Seems a bit cliche, doesn't it?"

"Yes — well, no, no, not a frog." Sam shot her a look, but Alex didn't turn to see whether it was one of confusion or frustration. "Transfigurations can be any sort of change —"

"Like maybe they made him into a tiny one inch man," Alex finished with a nod. "That would be cool." She pulled her laptop off of the nightstand and lifted the top, masking a grin at her joke. "I know, I know. Probably not that either." She hurriedly typed in _witches and transfiguration spells_ into the search box, shaking her head as she did so. "Okay, let's say this is what happened. I-I mean, that might explain why clothes are being left behind if they no longer fit, but … Sam, who knows what these people are being turned into."

"Yeah." A knock at the door had both hunters looking up, and Alex pushed her laptop off of her lap with a frown. Sam was already on his feet, drawing back the hammer on his gun as he moved forward, and Alex followed, letting her grace sneak out. The lights above their heads flickered, and she immediately drew it back in with pursed lips.

The door cracked open, and after a second, Sam threw it open to reveal a young boy, dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and red hat. "Uh, yeah?" Sam lowered his gun, glancing over at Alex with a confused frown, but the angel could only shrug. "Can I help you?

The boy smirked as he looked up at the two of them, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, impassive to the pistol pointed in his direction. "Hiya, Sammy." Green eyes flashed in amusement from where they sat in a pale, angular face, and the boy swept a hand through the short strands of his brown hair.

Alex's head tilted to one side, eyes narrowing. "D-Dean?" she heard Sam stutter out, and she stepped aside as the small teenager shoved his way into the room.

"Yeah." The kid crossed over to the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Alex staring after him in bewilderment. He spoke and acted like Dean — sort of — but his voice was higher than hers, and …

Alex shook her head, clearing her thoughts as the teen returned to the main room and dragged his duffle bag out from under the bed. "Whoa, wait — wait." She stepped past Sam, who was still standing at the door, stunned, and she swung it closed before she turned back to the boy. "Seriously? Dean?"

"Yup. It's me." The boy dug through his things with a frown, and he turned it upside down to dump all the contents out onto the bed, the search of his things apparently more important than answering their questions.

"W-Wait a second." Sam finally found his voice as he stepped up to Alex's side, stuttering slightly as he watched Dean rifle through his things. "Y-You're a —"

"Yup."

"How?"

"No clue." The teen's face lit up as he pulled out his gun, and he popped the magazine out to check the clip inside. "Some scarface-looking due, bright light." He snapped the clip back in and tucked his weapon into the back of his pants. "Next thing I know, I wake up looking like Bieber."

"Why would someone turn you into —"

"Don't know." Dean cut his brother off with a dismissive shake of his head. "Don't care. Hey, we got any grenades?" He turned to look at them, expectation written across his face, and Sam let out a spluttered noise.

"I … I don't think so. I'm sorry, can we — can we just hold on a minute here?" Alex turned to face Sam; his face was one of shock, and Alex knew her face mirrored his. "When you said transfiguration spells, I was thinking something a little more … I don't know … sinister. Why the hell is Dean a twelve year old?"

"I don't — whoa, wait, wait, wait." Sam quickly sidestepped as Dean tried to push his way through them, and the tall hunter stretched out a hand to keep his brother near. "Wait a second. Talk to us."

Dean scowled up at his brother, his smooth, round face twisting in frustration. "Really, Sam?" he snapped. "Now? I got no grass on the infield, and a girl's gonna die. Sorry if I'm not in a chatty mood. Look, you want to try and get me back into the hunting game? Well, I'm back in the damn game." He pushed past his brother with a shake of his head. "Come on."

"Whoa, hold up." Alex put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. "One second. I need a picture of you, Shortstop." She pulled her phone out of her pocket, ignoring the face Dean pulled. "It's going in my 'stupid shit the Winchesters have done' album."

She barely had time to take the photo before Dean was out the door, and Alex followed with a shrug. She sent the phone off to Castiel, barely pausing to wait for Samas she stepped out into the night. A middle-aged woman was walking past them, a bag of groceries in her hands, and her eyes sparkled as she looked between Sam and Alex. "Your son is so polite," she praised, smiling back at Dean.

Alex froze, and she snapped her jaw shut when she realized it was hanging open. Sam stuttered out a, "T-Thanks," as the woman walked away, and Alex glanced over in time to see Dean beside the Impala, eyebrows lifted in interest as he watched the woman step into her motel room.

"I-I … there's so much wrong w-with that." Alex hurried over to stand by Dean, and she heard Sam grunt out a noise of agreement as he followed. "Most importantly being that there's no way I could be your mother." Her nose scrunched up in disgust as she ran the math in her head. "I would have had to have you when I was ten. And you would have been seventeen," she added up to Sam after a moment's thought.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks." Sam awkwardly cleared his throat, eager to change the topic of the conversation. "So where are we heading?"

"Tell you on the way." Dean climbed into the driver's seat, and Alex and Sam followed. The angel got into the back, and she tapped her feet on the floor in surprise as the bench front seat slid forward.

"Okay, okay." Sam reached out to steady himself on the dashboard, but Dean didn't listen, moving the seat even closer so his feet could reach the pedals. "Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" The seat suddenly stopped, and Sam grunted in pain as his legs were pinned up against the dashboard. "Wait, uh … maybe I should drive."

"I'm kind of enjoying the space back here," Alex teased before she let the humor fall away when Sam frowned back at her. "I'm _joking_. I'm on your side. You, uh, you're not even old enough to have a permit," she added to Dean.

"Okay. Fine." The teen threw open the door, but Sam reached out to stop him.

"Seat," he reminded, and, with a roll of his eyes, Dean pushed the seat back to its normal position. Sam grunted as the pressure was released, the noise fading into one of relief, and Alex drew her legs up onto the backseat as the seat clicked back into its resting position. Sam slid over to the steering wheel as Dean circled around to the other side, and the engine roared to life. "Where are we going?" he repeated, and Dean pointed down to the left side of the road.

"Old house out on the outskirts of the forest." Dean shook his head as Sam guided the car in that direction. "Let me tell you, that place is fucking creepy."

"You mentioned that there was a girl that was going to die." Alex leaned forward across the front seat so her face was level with Dean's. "What do you mean? What happened to you?"

"Her name's Tina. We met at the bar." Dean shifted on the seat, and Alex fell back with a curious hum. "She left, and I saw Scarface follow her out. I went after them, and then bam — white light. I woke up like this. Tina was there, and, uh, and J.P. Both looked like me. Scarface took J.P. away, but I managed to get out before he came back. And they gave us cake. Turn here."

"Cake." The Impala turned sharply, and Sam frowned. "Why would they give you cake?"

"Well, I don't know." Dean shrugged. "It wasn't even good cake. Too dry." He glanced over at his brother, surprised to meet Sam's gaze. "What?"

"Nothing." Sam's gaze snapped back onto the rod. "Okay," he added after a moment, "not nothing. Look … this is bizarre. Even for us, man." His hazel eyes flickered back over to his brother, at a loss for words. "This — this is insane. You — you're like — like, what, you're like fourteen? How does that even feel?"

Dean let out a sigh, and his eyes turned out the darkened window. "Well," he slowly began, "I'm me. I'm — I'm old me, but I'm a kid." He motioned down to his short stature, suppressing a shudder. "It's fucking weird, dude. And …" He fell silent, heaving another, deeper sigh, and his voice quieted. "There was a Taylor Swift song on the bus that I hopped to the motel, and, uh …" He looked up at his brother, concern and disgust painted across his face. "I liked it, Sam. I liked it a lot."

"O-Okay." Sam glanced back at Alex in the rearview mirror, but the angel could only shrug.

Dean, however, wasn't done. "My voice is weird, I've got like nine zits, and I have zero control over this." He motioned down to his crotch with a confused scowl. "I mean, it's up, it's down. It's up for no reason —"

"That's enough. Uh, thanks." Sam cleared his throat again, cutting his brother off. "Let's just call it puberty."

"Yeah, which sucks," Dean finished sharply. "Again."

Alex leaned forward again, tapping Dean on the shoulder to get his attention. "So, we checked out the alleyway behind the bar where you got jumped. We, uh, found this —" She dropped his phone into his lap, "and Sam found yarrow. Which means we're probably dealing with a witch," she finished.

"Okay." Dean nodded, agreeing with their assessment. "We still got some of that witch-killing shit in the trunk?"

"Hell yeah." Sam turned the car down another road as Dean pointed off to the left. "So, we'll get you changed back, and then light Sabrina's ass up." No response came, and he glanced over at his brother with a hesitant frown. "Right?" he prompted.

"Uh, yeah about that." Dean's shoulders rose and fell in a small shrug, and Alex tipped her head, unsure what was causing his hesitancy. "It turns out, this whole freak show has an upside." He yanked up the sleeve on his sweatshirt, the pale skin catching in the light of a passing streetlight. "The Mark is gone."

"Gone?" Alex repeated, and she leaned forward to look for herself. "What? How?"

"Well, I figure if this hoodoo slammed me back into my body I had when I was fourteen …"

"You didn't have the Mark then," Sam finished, and Ale scratched at her head.

"I — can it just do that?" she asked. "W-Where did it go? It had to go somewhere, right?" The leather squeaked beneath her as she leaned back in her seat, her frown hidden by the shadows of the night. "Maybe the physical mark is just gone. Do you feel any different?"

"Yeah, uh, I actually feel a lot better." Dean partially turned his head to shoot her a quick glance. "I don't know where it went, but I don't feel it anymore. Problem is, if we reverse the spell …"

"Then it comes back," Sam finished discouragingly, and Dean nodded. When the teenager didn't push the subject any further, Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, so, wait. You … you're not suggesting you want to stay like this, right?"

"What? No!" The answer came too quickly and too sharply, and Dean let out a sigh as his head dropped down to his chest. "No," he repeated, "but … if it's between being a psycho-rage-monster-slash-borderline-demon or a teenager, well … I'm not a fan of it either," he added when Sam cocked an eyebrow, "but … Sam, this problem is solved. And I'm still me. I can still hunt, I'm just, you know … dewier."

"Right." Alex barely held back a scoff. "Dean, you're like eighty pounds. Even I could beat the shit out of you with my hands tied behind my back."

"No." Green eyes flashed vehemently in the moonlight. "Not a chance, Pipsqueak."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure that should be your nickname now." Alex poked the teenager in between the shoulder blades. "You know, considering you're the smallest one here in just about every regards."

"Oh, I can think of some places where I'm bigger." Alex stuck out her tongue at Dean's innuendo, but the Winchester didn't notice as he turned back to his brother. "But, uh, good news — virgin liver." He patted his stomach with a wide grin. "So, what do you say when we're done doing our hero thing, we take her for a test drive?"

"Yeah, sure." Teeth flashed as Sam suddenly let out a grin. "I mean … you can drink again in, what, like seven years?"

Alex's head tipped back in a laugh, but Dean only frowned, crossing his arms. "That's not funny," he insisted, and Alex dug her teeth into her lips to quell her amusement.

"That's kind of funny," Sam insisted, jerking a thumb back at the angel. "She gets it."

"I got it, it just wasn't funny." Dean gestured angrily off towards the road ahead of them. "Just — just drive the damn car, okay?" His arms folded even tighter across his chest as he sunk down into his seat. "We're almost there."

...

 **A** lex slid out of the Impala, tucking her angel blade into her jeans as she followed Sam and Dean around to the trunk. A large, stone house loomed in front of them, the lawn overgrown with weeds and brush. Ivy climbed up the brickwork, stretching towards the roof, and the angel waited impatiently as the hunters gathered up their guns and flashlights. Dean poured alcohol into a glass bottle, shoving a strip of cloth in the neck, and Alex watched as he handed the bomb to Sam, who tucked it into his jacket. Dean then held a flashlight out to Alex, and the angel took it with a shrug, sliding it into the inner pocket of her coat. "Looks like someone is home," she announced, and the trunk slammed shut as the short hunter pushed his way past her; Alex stretched her neck up higher to try and exaggerate her height over his.

"Okay. Let's go in through the basement. Get Tina out first." Dean led the way through the weeds, and Alex let Sam pass her as she took up the rear. Her grace itched to get out, clearly aware of the danger at hand, and she swallowed nervously as she pushed it down.

They circled around to the side, and Alex followed Sam's flashlight as it darted down to a cluster of plants against the stone. She immediately recognized the flowers: yarrow. The angel lengthened her stride to walk beside Sam as Dean paused beside a window well, motioning down through the iron bars to the open window. "It's still open," he announced, and the soles of his sneakers tapped on the stone as he shone his flashlight down into the whole. "Tina?" He dropped down, legs hanging into the well as he peered through the window. When no answer came, he shook his head. "Alright, let's go."

"Whoa." Sam's flashlight darted across the small hole, and he shook his head in disbelief. "Dean, I'm way too big to fit in that."

Dean smirked up at his brother, and his eyes sparkled . "First time you ever had to say that, huh?"

Alex held back a snicker, and Sam's eyes widened before darkening as he retaliated, "Big talk coming from the dude wearing underoos."

Dean's gaze dropped down to the window well as he frowned. "Okay, good one," he relented. "Here, why don't you go around back for another way in? Alex can come with me." He dropped down into the hole, and, with a shrug, Alex dropped down next to him as Sam walked away. She hunched her back, barely fitting into the small space, and she grunted as she squeezed between the iron bars of the open window. Her shoulders almost got caught, and she suppressed a sudden rush of panic before she pushed her way through and slithered down onto the ground.

"This is where he kept you?" Her light flashed through a hole in the plaster wall, and she peered through to see another room, almost identical to the one she was in; small, rectangular, with a iron cot and mirror. "CPS would disapprove."

"Hey." Dean was kneeling in the corner, nudging at something in the dusty corner, and Alex turned her light onto the skull, brown from age. "Gross, huh?"

"Yeah, that's pretty disgusting." Her grace prickled, and the angel glanced over towards the open door, half expecting to find someone, but the doorway was empty. She looked over to see that Dean was staring as well, and she stepped closer to him, lowering her voice. "You feel something, too?"

"Yeah. Come on." The hammer on his gun clicked as Dean rose to his feet, and he led the way out of the small room and into the wide open basement. Dean motioned off to the left, and Alex nodded, slipping off towards the staircase. They creaked beneath her feet, and the angel hesitated before pulling back and flashing her light behind the stairs.

A grunt from behind her had Alex spinning around, her light catching on a wide, dark figure. His hands were around Dean's throat, the teenager's struggles doing little against the massive opponent, and Alex's flashlight fell to the ground. "Hey!" She jumped forward, fists balled as she wound up for a punch, but the man backpedaled, dropping Dean to prepare for conflict. A second later, he crumpled to the floor to reveal Sam Winchester, the butt of his gun raised.

Dean soothed his throat, rasping our a demanding, "Where's the girl?"

"Upstairs." The stranger looked up at both Sam and Dean, a scowl on his scarred face, and his voice carried a thick, scornful German accent. "Alive."

"What did you do to us?" The teenage Winchester scooped his gun up off of the ground as he circled around to stand beside his much taller brother.

"Nothing." The stranger's eyes glittered darkly from beneath his heavy brow, and Alex's gaze fell on the burlap hex bag that hung around his thick neck. "I'm no witch. I just work for one."

Sam scoffed. "Crappy gig. Where is he?"

"She." The burly man spat on the ground, and Alex wrinkled her nose in disgust. "And she is the worst person in the world." He planted his hands against the ground, ready to stand, but when both Winchesters lifted their guns, the man slumped back against the cold concrete. "I've been working with her for centuries," he explained, his voice weighed down in despair. "The things I've seen her do. My sister and I, she made us hurt people, kill people, and when we tried to escape, she caught us and tortured me." He gestured up towards the thick scar across his left eye, his shoulders hunching at the memory. "And then she made me eat poor Gretel's heart."

"Wait." The muzzle of Sam's gun quaved slightly, and he lowered the barrel in confusion. "Witch? Gretel?" He scoffed loudly. "What, are you saying you're …"

"Hansel." The man's voice rasped over the name, and he nodded. "My name is Hansel."

"Hansel," Sam repeated, voice flat. "And — and … and Gretel. Hansel and Gretel, like the — like the fable." He looked over at Dean and Alex, and the young angel shrugged. "Like the Brothers Grimm?" The muzzle of his gun flashed in the faint light, snapping back up to attention as Hansel rose to his feet, but the thick-set man ignored it.

"It wasn't just a fable," he insisted, hands stretching out in a show of innocence. "It was based on a true story. They just gave it a happy ending."

"Yeah, well, somehow I'd bet any ending would be happier than you two siding with a fucking witch," Alex spat, and she reached back to sheathe her weapon in her jeans with a shake of her head. "Okay, so we get to barbecue a celebrity tonight. Awesome."

She wasn't prepared for Hansel's vehement snort. "You can't kill her," he insisted. "You're only men."

"We're much more than that." Sam reached into his jacket pocket to pull out the Molotov cocktail, showing it off to Hansel before he handed the incendiary weapon down to his brother. "We're hunters."

"Ah." Realization lit up the man's face, followed immediately by relief. "Then let me help."

"Help?" Alex rolled her eyes, cynical of his offer. "Why would you want to help?" she challenged, and Sam finished with an added, "What's in it for you?"

"Because if you're going to fry that candy-coated bitch, I want in."

"You want to help?" Sam jerked the muzzle of his gun in Dean's direction, and Hansel's dark eyes flickered onto the small teenager. "Tell me how to turn him back."

Dean's lips pursed, and his green eyes flashed in the dim light, full of frustration. "Sam, it can wait," he insisted, but Sam shook his head, gun back on the witch's helper.

"The hex bag I'm wearing." Hansel didn't hesitate to answer, his attention still on Dean. "It will reverse the spell. Squeeze it, and you'll return to your proper age." He turned to Sam, whose gun had lowered to point at the ground. "Look, we waste the witch, I give you the cure. Deal?"

"Deal." Sam stepped aside to make room for Hansel to pass to the stairs. "Lead the way."

The man nodded, and Alex took up the rear, falling in step behind Sam and Dean as they ascended the rickety wooden staircase. She reached back to draw her blade as they reached the top floor, and she watched as Dean hid his gun in favor of digging a lighter out of his pocket. His small fingers couldn't encompass the bottle he held, and Alex quickly diverted her gaze with a silent snigger.

The air was thick with the smell of home cooking, and a light-hearted hum came from down the hall. Alex winced at the scent of meat, suppressing a shudder at the thought of what it could be as the four made their way down the narrow hall. She moved lightly, determined not making a sound on the wooden floors, but neither of her companions seemed to move with the same intent. "Hansel?" She heard a voice greet the man as he opened the door to the kitchen, and Sam and Dean pushed forward, weapons raised as they crowded in the doorway.

"And pals," she heard Dean crow, and she stepped into the room after them, chin lifted as she surveyed the small, wooden kitchen. A big metal pot sat on the stove, the handle of a wooden spoon rising from the simmering liquid, partially hidden by the witch.

She was wearing a dirty pink dress, which was as unappealing as her tousled red hair and thick-set face. Her plump lips were pulled down into a frown as she studied the three of them, but the expression appeared more of annoyance than anything else. In the corner say a young teenage girl, no older than Dean, bound to the chair with an expression of fear. "Well, our lost lamb." The witch smiled over at Dean, who shifted under her gaze. "I thought we'd have to go looking for you. Maybe even abandon our home sweet home here. I never dreamt you'd be stupid enough to come back on your own." She chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. "Hansel, take care of them."

The man didn't move, and Dean smirked. "Yeah, he's not exactly your biggest fan."

"Maybe you shouldn't have made him chow down on his sister," Sam added, and he adjusted his stance as he raised his pistol to point at the witch.

To Alex's surprise, the woman only chortled. "I never made Hansel do anything." Her last word was almost lost under the commotion as Hansel sprang to life. He yanked Sam's gun from his hand, sending the tall hunter to the ground before turning on Dean.

Alex's weapon twisted in her hands as the man knocked the molotov out of Dean's grasp with a, "They're hunters!" and as soon as his hand went out for Dean's throat, she was on the move, foot planted as she pivoted to drive her weapon into his heart.

Instead, she was knocked off of her feet. " _Rumpatur_!" She hit the far wall with a muffled gasp at the witch's spell, and Hansel's foot planted itself on her weapon, kicking it out of her hands. "My, my." The witch looked on curiously as Hansel stooped to pick up the blade. "I don't think I've ever seen that before." She patted the island, and the man set her weapons onto the wood. "Now. Who's hungry?"

Hansel stepped aside, Sam's gun aimed at the three of them, and Alex pushed herself to her knees. Sam and Dean were already kneeling in the kitchen, their hands lifted behind their heads in a sign of surrender, and Alex crawled over to them to sit at Dean's side. She kept her hands planted on her thighs, chin lifted as the witch circled around the island to stand in front of them.

"Ooh." She reached out to feel Dean's bicep, and the teenager twisted to rip his arm away. "Oh, scrawny. We'll have to fatten you up."

"Don't fucking touch me," Dean spat, but the witch only clicked her tongue.

"Oh, I'm going to do more than that," she promised, and she grabbed Dean's jaw between her thumb and forefinger. "Children. Oh, they're so sweet and innocent." She pulled her hand away, licking her fingers as she circled back around the island. "And delicious. You'll see." Hansel chuckled, and she smiled in his direction "When I cook him up, I'll give you some, hmm?"

"Alright." Dean dropped his hands to his side with a disgusted scoff. "That's it. Alex, take them out." His green gaze swung over to her when the angel hesitated, and his face darkened in a scowl. "What are you waiting for, huh? Nuke their asses."

"What?" Alex squinted, firmly shaking her head. "No way, Dean. Not until we get you back into your body." She jerked her head towards the hex bag around Hansel's neck. "You get a hold of that thing, and I'll take out every witch within a mile of here." She glared up at the witch, who just chuckled. "So, uh, why don't you tell us why exactly is going on with this whole 'fountain of youth' thing, huh? What, isn't taking kids good enough?"

"Hmm." The witch started peeling a clove of garlic as she thought, yellowed teeth flashing as she grinned over at Alex. "In the olden days, if a child went missing — ah, the young died all the time. Now, though, with all your AMBER Alerts and your milk cartons, a person fillets one rugrat, and people get so angry."

"Yeah, I blame Obama." Both Sam and Alex looked over at Dean, surprised by his quip, and the Winchester shrugged off their exasperated glances.

"So, I improvised." The witch continued on, unaware of Dean's banter. "I take adults no one will miss and give them back their youth."

"And then Kentucky-fry 'em," Dean finished, and this time, the witch finally looked up from her cooking.

"It's the only way I can eat in peace," she agreed.

"So, uh, is it worth it?" Dean shifted on the floor, returning his hands to behind his head as he eyed Hansel with a deep set frown. "I mean, word on the street is people kind of taste like chicken."

"A bit." The witch turned her attention to chopping up an onion. "European children are more, uh, free range. Gamier. Americans, though … ooh … they are heaven." She laughed at her own joke, brandishing the knife for emphasis. "Fattier. The meat, so finely marbles, it's almost buttery. I just can't get enough." Dean scoffed, and the witch's eyes stretched wide. "No!" she insisted. "I am in awe. This is my first visit to your country. And I have to say, God Bless the U.S.A."

"Ah. So you're a tourist."

"No." The witch shook her head at Alex's conclusion. "No, it's business, not pleasure. An old friend is causing trouble, and the Grand Coven asked me to take care of her. Poor, stupid Rowena."

"Wait, wait — Rowena?" Alex straightened up, her interest suddenly piqued. "Not the witch Rowena. Red hair, a thing for fancy hotels?"

The carrot fell from the witch's hand, landing on the island with a small thump. "How do you know that?"

"I delivered her to the King of Hell myself." Sam sprung to life beside Alex, and the angel slowly pushed herself to her feet as the Winchester knocked Hansel to the ground. "Dean." She nodded towards the fallen man, eyes flickering across the hexbag, and the teenager sprung past to grapple for the item. She reeled back as Sam went flying past and her grace snapped out in surprise. Flames leapt from the oven, licking at the air, and the angel spun around just in time to see Dean glow. His skin shifted, growing taller as he morphed back into his true self. The transformation was complete within the second, and Alex finally let go of her grace.

It exploded, shaking the house to its foundation. The energy ripped through the walls, as strong as a hurricane, and the force sent everything flying. She felt Sam and Dean hit the far walls, the grace bypassing them as it sought out her enemies. She felt flesh tear and singe beneath the burning heat, and she felt her teeth crack as her jaw clenched at the pressure. Lightning flashed and thunder roared, and the angel vaguely heard her voice rising against the wind as she struggled to contain it, struggled to draw it back in as it raged through her veins. "No!"

Suddenly, Zuriel's grace snapped back inside her, and the force of the recoil sent her to the ground. Her back slammed into the floor, skull cracking against the wooden boards, and the room spun above her head. The ringing in her ears lasted merely a second, and the angel stumbled as she pushed herself back to her feet. "Sam? Dean!"

The Winchesters were on the floor, grabbing at their heads. A litany of curses were streaming from Dean's lips, and the angel reached out to steady herself against the island before she sharply drew her hand away. The island was covered in blood — the entire kitchen was covered in blood, the red misting interspersed with chunks of flesh.

Bile rose in Alex's throat, and she felt her legs quiver as Sam and Dean pushed themselves back to their feet. Zuriel's grace roiled in her chest, fighting to escape, and the angel ground her teeth in an attempt to keep it contained. "I'm sorry."

"What the … fucking … fuck." Spatterings of blood decorated Dean's face, barely concealing the look of horror. "What was that?"

Alex's eyes turned around the room, trying to take a mental body count. Her, Sam, and Dean. That meant the witch was dead, and so was Hansel. And … Tina. The teenager was nowhere in sight, the only remaining sign the dense mist of blood against the wooden chair. "They … they're dead." She turned back to Sam and Dean, unable to hide the horror in her eyes. "I killed them all." She watched as Dean's gaze slipped past her to where Tina had sat merely seconds before, bound and terrified, and the angel suppressed a wave of nasuea as she remembered the violence in her grace; she could still feel it tearing through skin and bones.

The crackling of flames had her turning, and she became aware of the acrid tang of smoke. The house was on fire. "Shit." Sam's voice trembled, and his long legs carried him across the blood-stained floor. "We gotta — we gotta get out of here."

The hexbag fell from Dean's hands as he followed after his brother, and Alex felt a hand pulling her after him. The smoke was filling the room as the flames spread, and the angel swallowed a cough as she was forced to run blindly down the fiery hall.

She stumbled out of the door and collapsed onto the grass. The Winchesters were next to her, hunched over as they gasped for air as the house disappeared behind the wall of flames. The timbers cracked, and Alex flinched as embers sparked through the air, landing on her jacket and burning at her skin. The angel pushed herself to her feet and stumbled back as the roof collapsed inwards, hissing out a curse at the sight of the destruction

"W-What the hell happened in there?" Sam looked down at her from where he was doubled over beside a thick oak tree, the light of the flames dancing across his tight face.

Alex ran the back of her hand under her nose, staring down at the wet smear of blood. She pinched her nostrils together, trying to stem the flow. "I-I-I don't know. My grace … I couldn't stop it —" She cut off with a glance over at Dean.

The Winchester was staring at the burning home, his expression unreadable between the flickering fire and the darkness of the night. "You killed her."

"I know." Alex's words hung in the air, and she clenched her jaw to keep her voice from trembling as she watched the fire from the corner of her eye. "I'm sorry, Dean. I couldn't stop it." She felt her nose again to test if the bleeding had stopped, and she wiped the still oozing blood off on her sleeve. As the ringing stopped and her grace settled down, her voice and calm returned.

"Yeah, you already said that." Dean turned to face her, darkness in his eyes. "You couldn't control it. You never can. I-I mean, first it was little stuff, like lightbulbs and small fires, but this …" He looked over at Sam with a shake of his head. "What's next, huh?"

"Next? I — no. There can't be a next." Alex shook her head, internally wincing as the burning home crumbled further as if to emphasize her words. "I'm not going to let this happen again. I _promise._ "

"Damn straight," Dean agreed. "You gotta get rid of it." He crossed the grass, the thin green strands beginning to char from the embers, and Alex followed hesitantly. "How do you get rid of angel grace, huh?"

Alex drew back in shock, her stomach twisting violently inside of her. "Get rid of it?" The icy tendrils of panic wrapped themselves around her heart, and the angel looked up at Sam. "No, you — you can't just get rid of it." Her grace snapped out against her will, fueled by fear, and the flames behind them flared up with a resounding crack. The heat swept over them like a tidal wave, and all but Alex flinched. "It's a part of me!"

Sam reached out, a hand gently grasping her shoulder, and Alex turned to face him, ready for an argument. "We need to get out of here before the fire department comes." His eyes turned up to the thick plume of smoke and embers, a pale grey against the black sky. "This conversation can wait."

"Can it?" Dean's eyes flashed, and Alex rose to meet his challenge, head held high. "It's volatile, Sam." His left hand came up to tightly grip his other forearm, and Alex watched as he squeezed tightly at the Mark of Cain. "The minute this thing made me kill, we looked for a way to get it off. How is this any difference, huh? How many more people have to die?"

"You want me to get rid of it? Fine!" Alex threw up her hands, forcing down the wave of nausea Dean's words had brought up. "Fine, we'll get rid of it. B-But this is _nothing_ like the Mark, okay?" She felt her voice tremble, and the angel forced it to steady. "It's nothing like that."

Dean's smoldering eyes flashed, and he stalked off towards the Impala without another word. Alex felt her shoulders sag, reminded only of Sam's presence by his hand on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her arm. "We'll figure this out." The words sounded hollow, and Alex's eyes fell closed as she turned into Sam, pressing her forehead into his chest. The hand shifted, sliding across her back to hold her tight. "We'll figure it out," he repeated. "We always do."

Dean threw open the Impala door, pausing to look back at the two of them. "Get in the car," he ordered, and Alex flinched at his tone, hard with fear and grief. His eyes turned back onto the burning home, and his nostrils flared against the acrid smoke as he took one last look at the destruction. "We're going home."


	14. Executioner's Song

**It's been a month, and, as promised, I'm back! Let's finish up season 10.**

 **...**

* * *

 **April 28th, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** lex's head thudded against the table, the sound echoing throughout the room. The bunker was empty, and only the rumbling of the air pouring through the vents was there to keep her company. Books lay scattered out in front of her, remnants of the Winchesters' research. The pile to her left was any and all things relating to the Mark of Cain. To her right, Sam's notes on the removal of grace.

 _The door swung open, and Alex looked up to watch Sam and Dean stalk into the room. A third figure followed, and Alex jumped to her feet, eyes narrowing as she regarded King of Hell. "What's Crowley doing here?" She spat out the words, and her vehemence was reward by a toothy smile._

 _"Missed you too, darling." The demon strolled forward, eyes turned upwards to take in the bunker's architecture. "Rumor has it you've become, well, quite volatile, and the Hardy Boys have insisted that I clean up their mess."_

"Our _mess?" Sam's nose wrinkled in disgust at the insinuation. "You're the one who gave her the grace, Crowley. This one's on you."_

 _His concern was waved off, and Alex lifted her chin as the Crowley came to stop in front of her. "Perhaps I tempted her with a bigger mouthful than she could chew," he relented, and Alex's eyes narrowed, unsurprised to find the demon deflecting the blame. "But she's the one who took the bite."_

 _"Look." Alex ground out the words, and her grey eyes flashed as the torn remains of her grace threatened to bubble up. "You want to take my grace, fine. Take it. It's caused me more harm than good." Her gaze flickered over to Sam and Dean, jaw set as she refused to let her fear show._

 _"Fine by me." The demon drew a small, glass vial out of his suit pocket, and Alex's teeth dug into her lip as an angel blade appeared in the other. "Might want to take a seat, cupcake. This could hurt."_

 _His wrist flicked out the moment her back hit the chair, and a gasp of shock and pain left Alex's lips as the angel blade slit her throat. Her grace boiled up, unbidden, drawing all of the heat from her bones as it bubbled out of her veins. In its wake, it left nothing but ice, numbing her senses and dulling her eyes._

Alex reached up, hesitantly feeling the thin scar that stretched across her throat, resting just below her Adam's apple. The tips of her fingers still felt numb, and the girl shivered, drawing the blanket around her shoulders as tight as she could. Everything was numbed. Her ears felt waterlogged, and her vision was dim and blurry; the staircase at the far end of the room was slightly fuzzy, and the book titles on the far shelf unreadable. She always did have poor eyesight as a human.

Her hand dropped back down to the table, and her head followed, resting on the cool wood as she screwed her eyes shut. _Human._ The only chance she had of being an angel again was if Castiel found their grace. And he only had one year left before her deal was up.

Alex ran her finger tips over her forearms, tracing the skin where the King of Hell had once made her contract appear, a covenant written into her very bones. She had one year left before her time was up. One year. Some days it felt like a lifetime, others merely hours.

The bunker creaked around her, and Alex snapped her head up, searching for the source before she fell back against her chair. The Winchesters were gone, off on a case somewhere in a different state. They had left almost three days ago, and nothing they had said gave any indication of their return.

Her phone rang, and Alex folded her arms on the polished oak table as she answered. "Hey, Sam. When are you guys going to be back? The fridge is running low." Her stomach growled, and the hunter grit her teeth against the pain. "And I don't like being alone."

"Uh, well … I don't know." Sam's voice was apologetic, and Alex's temple pressed up against her forearm. "Something else has come up. We're in West Virginia. Uh, this guy on death row Houdini'd his way out of his cell."

"Huh. So, you're hunting a magical murderer?"

"Yeah, or — or a, uh, teleporting demon or a who-knows-what that can walk through Supermax walls." Alex heard the faint sound of Dean's voice, and Sam scoffed in amusement at the unheard comment.

"Well, if you guys need back up, I'm doing absolutely nothing here." Alex's voice took on a note of hopefulness, and she leaned closer to her phone. "Want me to head on over?"

"No, no. You stay put until you're back on your feet." Alex heard the engine rev beneath Sam's words. "Fingers crossed, we'll be back by the end of the week. Uh, there's cash in the top cabinet by the fridge if you need some money for food or a-a movie or something."

"Okay." Alex's face fell, but she forced her voice to remain cheerful, not wanting pity from the younger Winchester. "Just remember to be careful walking into a high-security prison, and don't let anyone recognize you. Death row is still a possibility for our future, so tell Dean I said don't fuck this up, alright?"

"Alright." Sam forced a chuckle at her pointed humor. "She said don't fuck up so she won't have go to jail," she heard him repeat to Dean. "He says he'll see what he can do," he told her after a second. "We promise to stay safe, okay? Listen, we're here, so I need to call you back."

"Sounds good." The Winchester hung up, and Alex pushed herself to her feet, letting her blanket fall back across the arms of her chair. If the Winchesters wouldn't have her, Castiel would. She threw back the last few sips of her beer with a shake of her head; if she had to stay in that God-forsaken bomb shelter for one more day …

She pressed her phone up against her cheek as she hurried off towards her room, throwing open the door as the other end of the line clicked. "Alex. Is everything okay?"

"Afternoon to you, too, Cassie." Alex put her phone on speaker and tossed it onto her nightstand as she dug her bag out from underneath her bed. "Where are you at? Still tracking down Cain?"

"Yes. I'm in Indiana on what might turn out to be a lead." Alex could hear a voice in the background, sharp and taunting, but the seraph ignored it. "How are you doing? You haven't answered any of my calls. Sam said Crowley removed your grace."

"Yeah. It, uh … it was a bit out of control, and everyone agreed it would be safer just to get rid of it." Alex scrubbed at the scar on her throat, trying to erase the thin, raised line, and after a second, she added, "I hate this. Please can I come to you? If I have to stay in the bunker by myself for another day, I — I'm going to shoot myself."

No answer came, and Alex threw her laptop into her bag, her impatience growing. "Listen, either I come to you or I'm going off to find my own lead. Your call."

"I'm in Quincy, Indiana." The location came with a resigned sigh, and Alex grinned. "If you leave now, you should be here in six hours. I will text you my address."

"Great." Alex slung her bag over her shoulder as she pushed herself to her feet, snatching her gun off of her dresser. "Love you, Cas. I'll see you soon." She hung up and shoved her phone into her pocket and grabbed her angel blade as she hurried out of her room and down the hall.

...

 **Quincy, Indiana**

 **A** lex slammed the car door as she stepped out into the grey, gloomy air. The dark clouds promised rain, and the ex-angel drew her sleeves down over her forearms, shivering at the damp chill. A truck sped by as Alex made her way up to the front of an old, dilapidated school building, and she cast a quick look around before she slipped under the fence and darted across the courtyard.

The inside of the school was as grey and dismal as the weather, and Alex's boots clunked against the tile floor as she made her way down the hall. "Cas?" she called, softly at first as her voice cut through the air. "Castiel?"

There was a noise at the end of the hall, something quiet and almost unnoticeable, and Alex hesitated, unsure of what she had heard. The noise faded, immediately replaced by a raspy scream. Her angel blade was in her hands with the second as Alex tore down the hall, sliding to a stop outside of the far room. The dim light filtered down through the broken glass, illuminating the two figures inside. One was tied to a chair, head thrown back in agony as the second stepped away. The interrogator looked up, blue eyes flashing in surprise at the sight of her, and Alex felt her shoulders sag in relief.

"Alex." Castiel set his weapon down on a school desk as he crossed the room, and Alex leaned up to kiss his lips, humming happily when he reciprocated the action. "I didn't expect you here for another hour."

"I made good time." Alex slipped past him, twirling her weapon in her hands as she circled around to stand in front of the bound man. Even without her grace, she could tell it was a demon. "Who's the black-eyed skank?"

"Arthur Wright. Or, at least, that's what his identification claims." Castiel circled around to stand at her side, his shoulders brushing hers as his eyes narrowed in disdain. "I didn't bother asking for _his_ name, though."

"It's Vinny." The demon tossed his head to get his hair out of his face, his black eyes flashing angrily as he stared up at the two of them. "Not that you'd care." Despite his defiance, cuts littered his exposed skin, evidence of long-endured torture.

"Yeah, you're right. I don't." Alex tucked her weapon away as Castiel picked up his. "This is supposed to be your lead on Cain? He doesn't even look crossroads material." She shook her head. "No way they're besties."

"Me and Cain ain't friends." The demon spat on the ground, his nose wrinkled in disgust. "He _kills_ demons. Low—level guys like me keep our distance." His head fell back in a cry of pain as Castiel's weapon cut through his exposed bicep, and the black fled from his eyes. "Alright!" he yelled, and the seraph pulled the silver weapon away. "Alright," the demon repeated, a snarl in his voice. "He's been seen the past few months making passes through Bogg's marsh, one county over." He looked between Alex and Cas with a shake of his head. "Like I said, we keep our distance."

Castiel's weapon lifted, the tip circling slowly before aiming itself at the demon's right eye, and the demon's head recoiled as the weapon barely grazed the cornea. "And that's all you know." The statement was made quietly, and the demon nodded eagerly as the angel blade pulled back ever so slightly.

"Yes," Vinny agreed, relief making him breathless. "Yes, I swear."

The weapon fell back to Castiel's side, and the seraph gave a small, curt nod. "Okay." The demon's face lit up as the blade plunged into his stomach, and Alex watched disdainfully as the creature died. "Bogg's Marsh." Castiel drew away from the body, blue eyes blank and unreadable. "Have you ever heard of that place?"

"Nope. But it can't be too hard to find." Alex turned away from the body, digging her phone out of her pocket. She tugged on the seraph's thick coat as she leaned into his shoulder, cheek pressing into his arm. "Give me two minutes, and I'll see what I can do."

She pressed herself closer into his warmth, and she felt Castiel's free hand come up to massage her neck until he reluctantly pulled away. "I should go take care of this." He nodded towards the body, and Alex stepped back to let him work. She took a seat on the desk, watching as he effortlessly tossed the corpse over his shoulder and disappeared out the door.

She glanced down at her phone with a frown, lifting it up to try and improve the signal through the concrete walls. Her eyes turned passed to a framed photograph that hung on the wall, the glass cracked and the frame askew, and the ex-angel blinked in surprise. Alex leaned forward curiously, shaking her head as she studied the face. For a moment, she thought the individual had been Sam; they had the same facial structure, the same look in their eyes. "Riley." Alex read the name aloud.

"Who?" The sound of Castiel's voice had her turning away, a small smile on her face. The seraph crossed over to her, and Alex gave a small shake of her head as she held up her phone to show the location the demon had spoke of. Castiel squinted, taking her wrists in his hands to steady the screen. "How far away?"

"Not sure yet." Alex slid off of the desk, taking his hand in hers as she led the way out of the classroom. "Do you want to drive, or should I?"

"I'll drive." Castiel dropped her hand so he could reach for his keys. "Find us a way there." He led the way back out across the courtyard, and Alex ducked beneath the chain—link fence before following him over to the Lincoln Continental. "Alex." The seraph paused by the front panel, his face darkening, and Alex tilted her head to look up at him. "If we find Cain there …"

"Hey." Alex reached up to take the lapel of his jacket, and she tugged gently to quiet him. "I've met Cain before. If he didn't kill me then, I don't think he's going to jump to kill me again." She watched as reluctance danced in his eyes, and she leaned up, pressing her lips against his. "Come on. Just because I'm human doesn't mean I'm helpless. We'll be in and out before Cain ever knows we were there."

...

 **T** he wind at Bogg's Marsh was stiff and cold, and Alex suppressed a shiver as she kicked the car door shut. She screwed her eyes up against the freezing air as she glanced over at Castiel, unsurprised to find that the seraph remained unaffected by the weather. His cerulean eyes scanned the land in front of them, and Alex circled around to stand at his side. "Which way, Captain?"

She watched as the seraph took one last pass over the park before his gaze dropped down onto her. "Stay close," he ordered, and Alex fell in step at his side as he started down the dirt path. "We don't know what we will find."

"I had no intention of going off on my own, thanks." Alex rolled her eyes as they started off up the hill, head lifted as she looked at the forest ahead. "By the state of that parking lot, people don't really come here, and the demon said that his kind keeps their distance from this place."

"How is Dean doing?" Castiel led the way through the trees, his voice surprisingly passive, and Alex glanced up at him in surprise.

"Dean?" she repeated. "He's … doing the best he can." She shrugged, unsure what else to say. "He's not happy with me after the — after the grace thing, and I don't know … I mean, is he really that mad, or is it the Mark? I can't predict him any ... shit."

A wide, treeless circle lay before them, the ground decorated with hundreds of mounds of dirt. _Graves._ Alex's words died her throat as she looked out over the mass graveyard, and despite the cold weather, she felt the hot flames of fear and adrenaline lick at her spine. Castiel pushed past her, and Alex followed, hurrying down the hill to make her way among the mounds. "How many do you think there are?"

Her question went unanswered, and Alex turned to find Castiel kneeling down beside one grave, his phone pressed up against his ear. She crossed over to him, crouching at his side as the seraph turned a white sneaker over in his hands. "He's dead," he told the Winchester on the other line, his face dark with concern. The surprise of the brothers could be heard even from where Alex was, and Castiel tossed the shoe back onto the ground with a dry, "Just call it an educated guess."

"Who's dead?" Alex turned the shoe over to see the name 'Tolliver' written on the sole. Wind cut through the clearing, and Alex shivered, turning to hide her face from the blast. She opened her mouth, ready to comment about the cold, but she fell silent at the sight of a darkly—clad figure standing at the edge of the graves. "C—Cas — hey."

She hit the seraph in the shoulder with the back of her hand to get his attention, and Castiel turned in surprise. "I'll call you back." He hung up, and Alex shifted sideways as the seraph stepped forward to put himself between her and Cain.

"Hello, Castiel." The man strolled forward, dark eyes flickering between the two of them. "It's good to see you again, Alex." He nodded towards her, face growing thoughtful. "I see you've lost your grace. Recently, I believe."

"How …?"

"I've been keeping an eye on the three of you, yes. I'm guessing it was not long after after you finally killed that innocent child." The look in his eyes intensified, and Alex lifted her chin against the allegation. "You've been dancing there for some time, haven't you? The line between justice and cold-blooded murder. How does it feel to have finally put a foot on the other side?"

Alex felt her jaw tighten, unable to force words through her constricted throat. "What have you done?" Castiel's voice shook angrily as his arms spread out, motioning to the unmarked graves that surrounded the three of them.

Cain's gaze turned out across them, his expression placid and unreadable. "These bodies?" he asked, and Alex curled her fingers in the hem of her jacket to resist reaching for her blade as he turned back to them with a dismissive shake of his head. "Just cleaning up a mess I made a long time ago."

"Cain, I know what you are," the seraph began as the Father of Murder moved closer, and Alex shifted away. "But you resisted for so long."

"What can I say? I got the taste back." Cain chuckled as he came to stop inches from the two of them, his breath warming the icy air. "With Abaddon's army gunning for me, I had to take up arms again, and I liked how it felt."

His words were met with silence, and only when Cain had turned away did Castiel find his voice. "Those were demons," he insisted. "These …"

"Humans." Cain crouched down to pick up a small, dirty teddy bear that was resting beside one of the graves with a disinterested shrug. "Eh. The Mark thirsts for all kinds."

"This is a _massacre_."

"Yes. And soon it'll be a genocide." Cain tossed the toy back into the mud as he rose back to his feet. "My children, my whole poisoned issue. A lot of them are out there right now … killers, fighters, thieves, some more peaceful than others. But they still carry it. The disease." His blue eyes darkened as he regarded the two angels. "If the Mark wants blood, I'll give it mine."

"You'll kill them all?" Disbelief darkened Castiel's face, and Alex watched as his fingers curled and uncurled in unease. "You were Adam and Eve's firstborn. Your descendants are Legion."

"At most, I'm culling …" Cain paused, thinking, "one out of ten."

"Of everyone."

Cain shrugged, disinterested by the seraph's concern. "I've got time. How's Dean, by the way? I hear he did good, took Abaddon down." He watched as Castiel's face hardened, and he gave a small pout. "He's not well."

"He's having trouble keeping it under control, even without the First Blade," Alex relayed, and she felt both men's gazes turn onto her. "I don't think he's strong enough to fight it on his own. If we don't find a cure —"

She cut off when Cain scoffed. "Cure?" he repeated. "There is no cure. I'm living proof of that. But don't worry about Dean," he promised after a second's pause. "I'll get to him, in due time." Metal glinted in the sunlight, and Cain's eyes flickered across the angel blade in Castiel's hands. "Sorry, Castiel. You're not on my list." Alex shifted back, hand coming up to reach for her own weapon, but she froze when Cain turned to her. "Neither of you are."

The Father of Murder disappeared into thin air, leaving them alone among the dead. A cold wind followed his departure, and Alex flinched away from the icy blast. "What are we going to do?"

Castiel didn't immediately answer, and Alex opened her eyes to see that he had retreated two steps, his phone in his hands. "We should contact the authorities," he decided, and Alex hurried over to him, pressing herself into his arm. "At the very least, revealing his burial site will slow him down until he finds another one."

Alex's eyes turned out over the graves, her face darkening thoughtfully. "Good idea," she finally agreed, glancing back towards her mate. "I'll text Sam …" She trailed off, frowning to find that Castiel was already ten paces from her side, his phone pressed up against his ear. "I'll text Sam," she repeated to herself, digging her phone out of her jacket pocket as she broke into a run after her mate. "He'll want to know."

...

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** lex pushed herself off of the hood of her Marquis as the Lincoln Continental pulled up alongside her, the windows rolled down to let in the warm summer air. The engine died with a spluttered cough, and Alex rolled her eyes as Castiel got out, carefully closing the door as not to damage the car. "I thought I'd lost you about twenty miles back behind that train," she teased as he circled around to stand in front of her, and she leaned up, welcoming the kiss that came in response to her greeting. "You made better time than I expected you to."

"The train wasn't very long." The seraph brushed over her joke, his face set in stone. "Have you spoken to either Winchester yet?"

"Not since we talked on the phone back in Indiana." Alex led the way over to the bunker entrance, her boots echoing on the metal stairs as she jumped down to the door. "I doubt they went anywhere, if that's what you're concerned about." Her theory was confirmed as she pushed her way into the bunker, leaning over the rails to catch sight of both Winchesters sitting in the library. "See?"

"You're back," Sam greeted as the two descended, and he partially closed his laptop as Alex bounded across the room and up the library stairs. "How'd it go?"

"Not good." Alex grimaced in agreement to Castiel's words, and she sat down on the edge of the table as she glanced up at the seraph's darkened face. She heard Dean rise to his feet behind her, the legs of the chair scraping against the wooden floor, and the seraph's gaze turned onto him. "It appears that Cain has been killing off his descendants, and he shows no intention to stop."

"You — you spoke with him?" Shock filled Sam's voice, and Alex watched as he and Dean exchanged worried looks before his hazel eyes flickered down to her. "You didn't mention that."

Castiel nodded, answering for her. "It appears that, even without the Mark, Cain's murderous tendencies have returned." His head tilted so he could watch Dean pace across the room, and his shoulders fell slightly in defeat. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring better news."

"It's not your fault, Cas." Dean swiped a hand through his hair as he came to stop behind his brother, and a small shake of his head emphasized the seraph's vindication. He reached down to paw through the thick stack of folders on the table, a mixture of both old and new research.

"Thank you," Sam added, and the table creaked as he leaned his elbows against it, opening up his laptop once again. "Alright, so I called the sheriff, and he gave me a few names, some preliminary IDs on the bodies."

"And?" Dean asked.

"And it seems to fit with their story," Sam finished with a grim nod, and Dean's fingers tightened on the Men of Letters' folder he held in his hands. "I mean, there's no way to tell the relation to Cain, obviously, but he's wiping out entire families, one after another."

With a sigh, Dean dropped the file back onto the table. "So, who's next? Is he done with the Tollivers?"

"Tolliver?" Alex repeated, and she rose up from the corner of the table with a frown. "That was the name written on the bottom of that shoe Cas found. How do you two know this guy?"

"He's the inmate who escaped death row." Sam let out a reluctant breath, his eyes not lifting from the computer screen. "Yeah. But, uh, it looks like Cain's done." He squinted as he scrolled through the FBI database, lips pursed tightly together in concentration. "I mean, his father didn't have any siblings or any other children I can see, and Tommy was never married, so I …" He trailed off, hazel eyes darting up and down the screen, and his shoulder fell. "Oh, come on. Dammit."

"What?"

"Tommy did have a son," Sam reported. "Estranged, who lives with his mother in Ohio. Uh … Austin Reynolds, twelve years old."

"Is the kid still alive?" Dean crossed over to lean against the back of his brother's chair, peering down at the screen, and after a second, Sam nodded.

"As of an hour ago, yeah," he announced, and Alex let a breath of relief escape her lungs. "That's when he updated his Facebook status. But I mean, come on. It's a kid." He looked up from his laptop, eyes turning onto Castiel. "You don't really think Cain would …"

"Yes, he would."

"There were all sorts of people buried there," Alex agreed darkly. "Men, women, children. Anyone and everyone that carried his blood." She watched as Dean started towards the hallway, and she lifted her voice. "Where are you going?"

"We know where Cain's going to be." Dean's eyes flashed as he turned back to the three of them. "That kid's in danger."

Sam's chair creaked as he twisted to face his brother, a frown on his lips. "Okay, so what, we track him down to Ohio, and then what?"

"Then I'll do what I have to do." The Winchester's eyes narrowed, and Alex watched as one hand came up to tightly grip the Mark. "I'll kill Cain."

He disappeared off towards the bedrooms, and Alex exchanged a look with Sam before the Winchester rose to his feet and hurried after his brother. "Dean, wait!" he called, and with a shrug, Alex followed.

"— he gave me the Mark, Cain said that this day would come," Dean was explaining as he made his way into his room, and Alex fell in step at Sam's side. "That after I killed Abaddon, I would have to come and put him down." He reached for his duffle bag that lay in the corner of his room, tossing it haphazardly onto the bed as he pulled a shotgun off of the hooks on the wall.

"Great." Sam leaned up against the doorway, but a nudge from Alex had him stepping inside to stand beside the bed. "So you're taking orders from a madman."

"No, he wasn't mad then." Dean shoved the weapon into the canvas bag with a shake of his head. "Cain resisted the Mark for a long time, but then I came, kicking up trouble about the Blade. I sent him down this path. This is on me."

"It doesn't mean you have to be the one to go after him," Sam retorted, and he folded his arms across his chest as Dean paused to look over at him.

"Yes, it does," Dean corrected firmly. "And there's only one thing that can kill him."

"The Blade." The word tasted sour on her tongue, and Alex spat it out, mimicking Sam by crossing her arms. "Great."

"Dean's right." A hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Alex's arms fell back to her side as she looked up into Castiel's face; the features, normally so impassive, held traces of concern and frustration carved deep into the lines.

She sighed, ready to give in, but Sam still remained less than convinced. "Dean, wielding the Blade against Cain himself …" He trailed off as Dean's hand came up to cover the Mark, and his voice cracked slightly as he forced himself to go on. "Win or lose, you may never come back from that fight."

"I know." Dean's arm trembled slightly as he released the mark to zip up his bag, and when he finally looked back up, his green eyes flickered with determination. "But this is my mess, Sammy." He pushed his way past the three of them, and Alex stepped aside to let him through. "I'm the only one who can stop him."

...

 **De Graff, Ohio**

 **T** he Impala rolled to a stop outside a farm home, the headlights darkening as the engine died. "This the place?" Dean slung a hand over the back of the seat as he looked out towards the home, and when Sam nodded, he fully removed the keys from the ignition. "Alright. So what's the plan?"

"We find Austin, and we get him out." Sam threw open the door, and Alex followed, leaving room for Castiel to crawl out beside her. "Hopefully we're not too late." He nodded towards the barn, where light spilled out from the loft. "Cas, take Alex and check the barn. We'll take the house."

The seraph nodded, and Alex fell in step at his side as they crossed the lawn. She stretched open her eyes, trying to see better through the dark, but without her grace, all she could see was darkness. "What do you see?" she asked, taking a step closer to her mate as her toes bumped against something buried in the long grass.

"There's someone upstairs." The barn door opened silently beneath Castiel's touch, and Alex slowly followed him inside. "Stay here. I'll go see who it is."

"Sure thing." Alex did her best to keep the disappointment out of her voice as she took up a post near the door, reaching back to draw her gun as the seraph disappeared up the stairs. She pressed her back up against the doorway, head turned out into the night, and she cocked it slightly to listen for Castiel's returning footsteps. She could see Sam and Dean on the front step of the house, knocking insistently, and she squinted to try and make out the details on their faces when Sam shook his head.

She was so focused on the brothers that Castiel's reappearance at her side had her jumping away. "Austin is upstairs playing with a basketball," he informed her as he swept by, and Alex followed him out into the night. "He's safe."

"Okay, good." Alex tucked her weapon back into her pocket as she and Castiel returned to the Impala, where both Sam and Dean had retired to after knocking on the door. She tucked her hands into her sleeves to fight back the evening's chill as Castiel repeated his findings to both of the brothers.

Sam's face was one of relief, but Dean's eyes remained dark. "Cain will strike soon," he warned. "Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, but soon." He looked over at his brother, worry painted across his features as he added, "And when he does …"

"Yeah, I got it." Sam shoved his hands into the pocket of his jacket with a frown. "You charge in with the Blade solo. And the kid? What, we just watch and wait until Cain attacks? I thought this was a rescue mission."

"We save the kid after Cain shows."

Sam frowned at Dean's firm tone, but Castiel jumped in before he could speak. "We know what Cain's after," he reminded, and Sam's eyebrows lifted in surprise to find Castiel defending his brother. "That's our only advantage. We want to trap Cain, we use it."

"A twelve year old as bait." Sam gave a small, slow shake of his head. "I can't believe what I'm hearing."

"Neither can I." A fourth voice joined the conversation, and Alex's eyes snapped around to lock with Crowley's gaze. The demon was crossing the darkened lawn, the wind tugging at his black coat, and Alex was unable to stifle a grimace of disgust as he came to stop at her side.

Her expression as mirrored by Dean. "What's the matter, Crowley?" he retorted. "You suddenly grow a conscience? Too good to put a minor in danger?"

His sharp words were met by a chuckle that quickly faded away. "I don't give a damn about the kid." Crowley's lips pursed together as he looked between Sam and Dean. "I'm talking about the risk to us."

"There is no us." Dean stepped forward, and Crowley's gaze turned back onto him. "You're here for one reason. That's to hand me the Blade."

"What the hell are you even doing here?" Alex added, and she scowled at how the demon's eyes turned down onto her.

"Didn't you hear? Dean gave me a call about the Blade. Told me this was life or death." Crowley turned back to Dean, an eyebrow cocked at how the Winchester's hand was outstretched, fingers curling expectantly. "So about that." Crowley lifted his chin, and Dean's eyes darkened. "Seeing as this is shaping up to be one of those, uh, two-step capture-then-kill kind of deals, I think your buddies would agree it's better to keep the Blade out of your hands until we've got Cain sewn up. Just to be safe."

Dean looked backwards, searching for support from his friends, but Sam merely shrugged. Alex mimicked him, adding aloud, "Maybe that would be best. Why risk anything before we have to?"

She ignored the triumphant gleam in the King of Hell's eyes. "Now, back to this plan of yours."

"Okay, wise guy. You don't want to use the kid as bait, what do you suggest?" Dean folded his arms across his chest, and even in the dim light, Alex could see the frustration in his gaze. "Huh?"

"Rune of Amaranth." Crowley removed his hand from his pocket to show off a small amber crystal. "Used in the finest occult illusions — it can fool even demons for a time." He tossed the rock up and down twice before returning it to his pocket. "Given the right spell, it should mimic the little tot perfectly."

"Okay, great. We'll use that." Alex turned to look up at Dean, a plan forming in her mind. "Crowley will take Austin somewhere else — somewhere far away. And then we'll wait for Cain."

"You really want to put the kid in my hands?" Crowley scoffed loudly, and Alex fell silent with a frown. "Why don't you play babysitter? You have experience watching over brats." His dark eyes flickered up to Dean, glittering with undisguised amusement."

"You can take him farther away," Alex retorted sharply. "And I'm more use here."

"Are you?" From his other pocket, Crowley produced a small vial of dull grace, and Alex felt her cheeks flush hot with anger. "What exactly are you without this?"

"Alright, alright, that's enough." Dean stepped in between them, hands spread to keep the two at bay. "The kid's not going with either of you, okay? We —"

"Dean." The low rumble of Castiel's voice had the Winchester falling silent, and Alex turned to follow the seraph's gaze. A boy stood in the middle of the darkened lawn, a basketball in his hands, his eyes stretched wide as he stared at the strangers.

"Austin Reynolds?" Dean fumbled in his pockets as he stepped forward, and the boy stepped back. His hands were clenched, and the light in his eyes made him look like he was two seconds from bolting.

"It's okay." Alex moved forward slowly to stand just in front of Dean, hands spread in innocence. "My name is Agent Phillips. We're with the FBI." She motioned back to the Winchester, who had managed to retrieve his fake ID and was holding it out to the young teen. "We're not here to hurt you. Is your mom home?"

"She — she's at work." Despite the tremor in Austin's voice, he held his head high as he addressed her. "She works the overnight shift at the hospital."

"Okay." Alex softened her face, head tilting slightly to one side, and she was rewarded when the boy's posture relaxed slightly. "Is there somewhere you can go? Friends or relatives in the area? It's not safe for you to be alone out here tonight." She pointed to Sam. "That man right there is Agent Ford. He's going to take you to wherever you can go."

"I — my aunt lives in town." Austin's eyes flickered between Alex and Sam, unsurety in his gaze. "Why isn't it safe?"

"There's a man on his way here. A very dangerous man who wouldn't hesitate to harm you." Alex dropped her voice, softening it the best she could. "We're here to stop him, Austin. And we need you to trust us so we can get you somewhere safe." She nodded towards the house, adding, "If you need to call your mom first to let her know where you're going, you can. But we need to move quickly."

"O—Okay." Austin stepped forward hesitantly, and Dean stepped aside to let the child through to Sam.

"Hey." Sam smiled down at the boy, his shoulders hunching slightly to appear less intimidating. "Do you know how to get to your aunt's place?" He accepted the keys from his brother, and Alex turned away to let Sam take control of the situation.

"Alright. You get that rock thing working." Alex pointed to Crowley before her finger turned onto her and Dean. "We need to find a way to trap Cain. What's going to hold him?"

"Devil's trap." Dean's face was grim. "We'll lure him into the barn." He stepped away from the demon, motioning Alex after him. "Let's go. I don't know how long we have."

...

 **A** lex stood in the loft of the barn, leaning her head up against the wide window as she stared out into the darkened grass below. "How long is this going to take?" She stepped away from the window, lips pursed tightly as she brushed a hand through her hair. She could hear a basketball in the next room, and she peered through the planks that served as a wall to see Austin dribbling the ball in a slow, methodical fashion. She blinked, watching for several more seconds in hopes of catching sight of something — anything — that would indicate that the apparition was the result of a spell, but there was nothing.

"Don't know." Dean was crouched on the floor, his attention on a distinct line of pebbles on the wooden planks. He adjusted one of the stones, pushing it back into place, and Alex sighed when no further explanation came.

The basketball ceased its movement, and Alex watched as the apparition exited the room and descended the barn stairs. Dean looked up only long enough to see the boy disappear before his gaze fell back onto his project.

Alex returned to the window, sitting down on a pile of hay to watch. She could see Austin crossing the grass, and she ducked down when the apparition paused. A second figure stepped out in front of him, and even in the darkness, the ex-angel recognized the form as that of Cain. "Dean." She hissed out the Winchester's name, and green eyes snapped up to meet hers. "He's here. Stay down."

She peered back out through the window in time to see the apparition running back towards the barn, and, although she couldn't see, she knew Sam was there waiting for the boy. Her attention turned back to Cain, hindered by Castiel. The seraph's hand was stretched out, the blue in his eyes glowing in the night air.

She couldn't hear the words spoken, but the wave of Cain's hand had Castiel flying out of the way, and the ex-angel flinched as her mate crashed through a wooden fence. Cain crossed the lawn, and Alex ducked back down, pressing her head into her chest to keep out of sight as the Father of Murder entered the barn. She waved Dean backwards as she jumped forward, hurrying after Sam and Austin into the main room of the loft.

Sam slammed the doors behind her, and Alex threw herself next to him as the doors shuddered beneath Cain's weight. She planted her feet against the floor, teeth grit as she pushed back against the pressure. The door shuddered once, then twice, and then it stopped.

She heard the apparition gasp from behind her, and she spun around to see Cain standing in the middle of the room, a silver knife in his hands. Austin was looking up at him, his eyes stretched wide. "Don't." The apparition's voice was soft, and his feet carried him one step back. "Please, don't."

Cain looked over at Sam and Alex, and Alex squared her jaw as the knife slid into Austin's stomach.

The apparition dissolved in a cloud of purple smoke, and the faint triumph in Cain's eyes faded into realization. "Illusion spell." He twisted the blade in his hands as he watched the smoke dissipate, his lips turning downwards into a thin frown.

"Oh, yeah." Sam stepped forward, head held high. "The real Austin is long gone."

Cain barely seemed to hear him, his attention still on the fading smoke. "Eighteenth century magic," he murmured to himself, and Alex watched as Crowley entered the room from behind the Father of Murder. "If I had to hazard a guess, Rune of Amaranth."

"Good eye," Crowley appraised, and Cain turned his gaze onto him. "Something I picked up from my mother."

"Well, I know you fear me, so I can only assume …" Can kicked at the straw that covered the loft floor, revealing the thick red line that indicated the edge of the large devil's trap that Alex and Dean had laid down. "Oh. Clever." He lifted his eyes to Alex, and the ex-angel rolled back her shoulders under his gaze. "Won't hold me for long, you know."

"It won't need you." Sam pulled open the barn door and stepped through, and Crowley crossed the room to follow.

Alex turned to fall in step at the demon's side, but an outstretched arm had her pausing with a frown. "I want you to stay here." Crowley kept his voice low, his dark eyes flickering uneasily over to Cain. "Keep an eye on both him and Dean. Don't engage in the fight. That's an _order_."

Alex squared her jaw, searching the demon's face for any sign that he was willing to negotiate, but his expression, like his tone, was firm. Reluctantly, she nodded, stepping back, and Crowley closed the doors behind him as he followed after Sam. "Do you ever get tired of being told what to do?" Cain's voice had her turning back to face him, and Alex crossed the room with a shake of her head.

"What do you think?" She kicked at the straw, rolling her eyes at the obvious question. "But I do it because I don't have a choice. Unlike you." Her eyes flashed as she lifted her chin to meet Cain's sharp gaze. "You're capable of fighting this — you did it for, what, how many years? And now, all of this galavanting around and killing kin, where does it all end?" A step forward had her standing with her toes against the devil's trap. "The Mark isn't going to be satisfied when you kill off all your descendants. It's going to want more and more until there's no one left."

"Do you know why I gave Dean the Mark instead of you?" Cain met her at the line, his own boots scuffing against the planks as his toes met the painted trap. "Because you _can't_ carry it. It's not in your blood." Alex lifted her chin, and the Father of Murder let out a low chuckle. "Now Dean, he shares my blood. The evil that taint my line, that's always been a part of him. But not you." The man's sharp blue eyes glinted as he tipped his head, and his voice dropped in to a low, thoughtful murmur. "The evil inside you is something new entirely."

His gaze turned upwards at the sound of the barn door opening, and Alex stepped back as his lips curled up into a smile. "Hello, Dean." He straightened his back, lifting his head higher as he waited for the Winchester to return the greeting, but when nothing came, his smile grew. "At a loss for words, my son?" he taunted. "Allow me. This is the part where you tell me it's not too late and I can lay down my arms, abandon my mission. 'We don't have to fight.' "

"I'll spare us the formalities." Dean's fingers squeezed the First Blade, his knuckles paling from his tight grip, and green eyes turned onto Alex with a displeasing frown. "Get out of here."

"No." Alex took two more steps back before firmly planting her feet in the straw. "I can't, Dean. Crowley told me to stay until this was finished."

"As long as you're in here, you're a liability." Dean's tone left little room for disagreement, but when Alex merely lifted her chin defiantly, the Winchester shrugged. "Suit yourself." He moved forward towards Cain, and Alex let her muscles relax as his attention turned onto the man. "You're past talking down, Cain. You're fully mental."

"Oh, I prefer to think I've finally gotten it clear." Cain's feet carried him along the edge of the devil's trap, and Dean followed, his arm and the Blade trembling in anticipation. "When I made my bargain with Lucifer, killed Abel, I released a stain upon the earth, a stain deeper and far more lasting than mere precedence."

"Your bloodline's tainted, so you say."

"So I know," Cain retorted, and he came to a stop, turning fully to face Dean. "Not all killers are my descendants, and not all of my descendants are killers, but enough are, enough for me to know that extinguishing them is the least I owe this world." He tipped his head, studying Dean, and he asked, "Can you honestly tell me that humanity's not better off with fewer Tommy's and fewer Leon's … fewer you's?"

"And what about the kid?" Dean challenged.

"He could go either way," came the measured response. "I prefer to be thorough." Cain's eyes dropped down to the First Blade, and his head tilted again. "How's it feel, Dean, to be holding the Blade again?"

The old jaw bone caught in the dim light of the barn as Dean lifted it, turning it in his hands to study its deadly features. "It feels like a means to an end." He moved across the painted line, entering the devil's trap, and Cain sidestepped to make room.

"Then do it." The man stepped back as Dean lunged forward, and Alex settled herself warily against the wall, arms crossed as she watched the man duck out of the hunter's way. The two danced across the trap, Dean's blows never hitting their mark, but the first blow from Cain sent the hunter sprawling onto the ground. He stepped back, waiting for Dean to clamber back to his feet, and on the next swing of the Blade, Cain grabbed Dean's wrist.

The two stood motionless, muscles straining as they both fought for control of the weapon, and Alex's arms fell back to her side, hands stuffed into her pockets as she watched from the sidelines. "I think you can do better," Cain hissed. A punch to his face had his head snapping to one side, but his grip on the Blade didn't waver. "Unless … you're holding back." Dean's fist came at him again, and he caught hold, squeezing tight to hold it motionless as they continued struggling for the weapon. "What is it, Dean?" Cain goaded, his voice strained with effort. "Do you think if you hold back enough, you won't succumb, that you'll leave this fight the same way you entered?"

With a sudden burst of strength, Cain threw Dean onto the ground, First Blade and all, and the Winchester hit the floor with a dull, heavy thud. "Look at my example, boy!" Cain's voice cut through the air, as loud as thunder, and Dean's head fell back as he struggled to regain the breath that had been knocked from his lungs. "There is no resisting the Mark or the Blade. There is only remission and relapse!"

The man dropped to his knees, fingers curling in Dean's jacket as he pulled the Winchester close, and the moment his free hand tightened into a fist, Alex was on her feet. "Hey!" The ex-angel managed to take two steps before a cold, forceful wind knocked her off her feet. Her back hit the far wall, and a breathless cry left her lips as she crashed to the ground.

"You told me that day would come." Dean grabbed at Cain's jacket, forcing the man's attention back on him. "You told me that I would have to kill you!"

"Is that so?" The same force had Dean flying across the room, and the First Blade fell from the Winchester's hands as he hit the wooden wall. Cain rose to his feet, his tongue clicking as he regarded the two hunters. "I'm afraid you've misunderstood my intentions here, Dean. When your pet angels found my burial site, I thought about ending them and swatting them like flies." His eyes turned onto Alex as she pushed herself back to her feet, grunting at the pain in her ribs. "But then," he continued, turning back to where Dean was likewise forcing himself to his feet, "I thought about you. Your biggest weakness, the thing I noticed the moment I met you — your courage, your reckless bravado. I let them both go, knowing they would report back to you, knowing you would bring into the battle the one thing that can kill me, the one thing I truly want."

The First Blade slid across the floor on its own volition, the handle scraping against the wooden planks as it shot toward Cain. The Father of Murder trapped it with his boot, and Alex felt her footsteps falter halfway to the devil's trap. "Oh, it's been too long." Cain knelt to pick up the First Blade, his eyes flickering closed as his fingers curled around the handle. "That old feeling makes me wonder how I ever had the strength to resist." His eyes opened at the sound of Dean's rushing footsteps, and he caught the Winchester by the throat.

Dean's eyes stretched open wide, and his hands scrabbled against Cain's wrist as he tried to pry the fingers from his neck. "This may be hard to believe," the man began as Dean gasped for air, "in light of what I'm about to do to you, but I care about you, Dean. I truly do. But I know I'm doing you a favor. I'm _saving_ you."

The First Blade glinted in his hands, and Alex's feet carried her another step forward. "Stop!" The word rattled in Dean's throat as he stretched a hand out towards her, and Alex halted. Her grey eyes reached his face, looking for any sign of deception, but there was nothing but firm determination. "Saving me from what?" he wheezed, eyes rolling back up onto Cain, and he let out a breathless gasp as the hand on his throat tightened.

"From your fate." Cain flung Dean to the ground, and the Winchester grunted as he skidded across the straw. "Has it never occurred to you?" Cain kicked Dean in the ribs, rolling the Winchester onto his back. "Have you never mused upon the fact that you're living my life in reverse? My story began when I killed your brother, and that's where your story will inevitably end."

"No." Dean's head rolled back against the straw as he shook his head. "Never." He pushed himself upwards on shaking arms, but a kick to the sternum sent him falling back.

"It's called the Mark of Cain for a reason!" Cain's voice boomed through the small room, his lips pulled back in a snarl before it faded away. "First … first, you'd kill Crowley." He twisted the First Blade in his hand, a foot pinning Dean to the ground, and Alex reached back, her fingers curling uncertainly around the handle of her gun. "There'd be some strange, mixed feelings on that one, but you'd have your reasons. You'd get it done, no remorse." He dropped down to his knees, straddling the Winchester with one hand wrapped tightly in the hunter's jacket. "And then you'd kill the angel Castiel. _That_ I suspect would hurt something awful." He chuckled, and the First Blade pressed against Dean's neck as his eyes turned onto Alex.

The ex-angel froze, her gun in her hands, but Cain only let out a scornful laugh. "And then you'd kill her." His voice was low with malice, and Alex looked away, unable to hold the man's sharp gaze. Her eyes met Dean's, watching as the Winchester's teeth grit. "Now that … killing your little sister would push you right up against the edge. And you'd ask yourself how you could ever survive it." The Blade pressed tighter against his neck, and Cain lowered his head, his face inches from Dean's. "But the truth is, you won't be able to. Because after that, then comes the murder that would finally turn you into as much of a savage as me."

"No." The word was choked out, and Alex pulled back the hammer on her gun, fingers digging into the metal of the trigger guard as she wavered in indecision; Cain was too close to Dean to risk a shot.

"Your brother, Sam." Cain continued on, oblivious to Alex and her weapon. "The only thing standing between you and that destiny is this Blade. You're welcome, my son." Cain reared up, the Blade rising to strike, and Alex saw her chance.

The bullet tore through Cain's skull, entering just below the ear, and the impact sent the Father of Murder reeling back. A snarl erupted from his lips, and then Cain was on his feet, Dean forgotten. "You." The look on the man's face was less than human, and Alex shift back as the floorboards cracked beneath his anger, breaking the devil's trap and freeing him from his prison. "You should have stayed on the sidelines."

Three steps carried him across the room, and Alex pressed her back into the wall, jaw clenched in fear. His hand raised, the First Blade flashing through the air, and Alex flinched away for the blow that never came.

The weapon clattered to the ground, the sound drowned out by a howl of pain, and Alex's eyes snapped open to see Cain's bloodied arm, the hand severed at the wrist. The man dropped to his to knees as he cradled his wound, and Alex pressed herself further into the wall as Dean discarded a large, bloody knife in exchanged for the First Blade.

Cain's teeth grit as the Winchester circled around to stand behind him, and the Father of Murder lifted his gaze to Alex's face. "What's the matter?" he taunted, and Alex looked over at the hesitant hunter.

"Tell me I don't have to do this." Dean's voice was on the edge of a plea, the Blade clenched tightly in his hand. "Tell me that you'll stop. Tell me you can stop!"

Cain's voice dropped low, intense and quiet. "I will _never_ stop."

The First Blade plunged deep into Cain's back, and Alex forced herself to look away as Cain died. She felt his body collapse in front of her, and the ex-angel lifted her gaze to Dean's eyes. The green irises were barely visible beneath his dilated pupils, and his chest heaved as he gripped the bloody First Blade. "Thank you." Alex sidestepped the corpse, a wary eye on the trembling Winchester. "Dean. _Dean_." She watched as Dean's gaze snapped over to her. "Let's go downstairs."

The Winchester silently led the way, and Alex followed as they moved down the rickety wooden stairs. Sam stood in the room below, Crowley and Castiel at his side, and at the sight of his brother, Dean's shoulders fell. "Dean?" Sam's voice trembled slightly at Dean's beaten face and quivering muscles, and the concern on his face grew when Dean didn't acknowledge him. "We heard a shot fired. What happened?"

"Dean," Crowley repeated, and his hand extended expectantly towards the bloody weapon. "The Blade."

Dean turned at the demon's words, his eyes dropping onto the ancient jawbone, and Alex watched as he slowly held it out. The weapon bypassed Crowley's open hand, instead turning onto Castiel, and the seraph blinked in surprise as he accepted the bloodstained bone. Crowley's face twisted in outrage, his eyes darkening furiously. "You lied to me."

"It's not the first time today." Dean spoke slowly, his voice firm and deliberate. "Cain's list … you weren't on it."

Crowley's eyes turned onto Alex, fire dancing deep within them. "You. Did you know this as going to happen?"

"They didn't tell me anything." Alex kept her tone level the best that she could as she addressed the fuming King of Hell, chin lifted. "Dean didn't say how he got you to agree to hand over the Blade. And honestly, I didn't ask. The less I knew, the less I had to tell you."

The demon let out a frustrated snarl, but, faced with all four of them, he vanished into thin air. The moment he was gone, Dean collapsed into his brother. "Hey, hey, hey." Sam wrapped his arms around him, supporting his brother the best that he could. "You did it. Dean, you did it." He guided Dean down to sit on the stairs, and his eyes lifted onto Alex, a plea in his gaze. "What happened up there?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle." Alex reached back to tuck her gun into her jeans, shaking her head as she looked down at Dean. The Winchester's eyes were half-lidded and distant, and the ex-angel pursed her lips. "I can tell you the details later. Once Dean's back somewhere safe."

She felt Castiel come to rest at her side, and as an arm wrapped around her waist, she finally felt the adrenaline fade, leaving behind exhaustion and pain. "Alex is right. The three of you should return to the bunker." The seraph's gaze dropped down to the Blade. "I need to take this somewhere safe. I will meet you there as soon as I can."

"Alright." Relief softened Sam's face, and he slowly helped Dean to his feet. "Thanks, Cas."

"Thanks," Alex echoed as the two disappeared out of the barn, and she finally let her head loll back against her mate's shoulder, eyes shut. "Don't be gone long."

Castiel's lips pressed against her hair. "I'll return as soon as I can," he promised. "Go with the Winchesters and get some rest. You can't push yourself as hard as you could with your grace." He nodded off towards the open barn door, and, with a quick departing kiss, Alex followed after Sam.

...

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **T** he memory of fire woke her, and Alex jerked awake with a strangled gasp. She could feel the heat of the flames on her skin, and the acrid tang of smoke and burning flesh still stung at her nose. Her eyes snapped open, but she was met only with the cool, dark interior of her bedroom. The light from the bunker's halls spilled in from beneath the door, and Alex shut her eyes as she willed her heat to slow. With a shiver, she swung herself out of bed, grimacing at the pain that had sunk into her bones overnight. Her ribs ached with each breath, and the ex-angel grunted as she bent down to search for a sweatshirt she had discarded late last night. She pulled the thick fabric over her head, rolling up the oversized sleeves before she shuffled out of her room. "Sam?" Alex lifted her voice as she made her way down the hall towards the library. "That you?"

"Hey. You're up." Chair legs scraped as Sam pushed himself to his feet to greet her, concern darkening his hazel eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted. Sore." Alex watched as Sam sat back down, and she dropped down into the chair next to him, leaning her head up against his shoulder as she stifled a groan. "How's Dean?" she asked, letting her eyes fall closed. "Is he still asleep?"

"He hasn't stirred since we got back." The muscles in Sam's shoulder twitched as he typed on the keyboard, and Alex opened her eyes to watch him work. The Winchester paused, and Alex tilted her head up to look into his face. "So … what exactly happened last night?"

"Dean killed Cain." The ex-angel closed her eyes again, the memories from the barn flashing through her mind. "Cain told him that there was no escape from the Blade and that … that Dean was living his life in, uh, in reverse. With that Mark, it's Dean destiny to kill all of us. Crowley, Cas, me, then you."

Sam's shoulders tensed, and Alex reluctantly pulled her head away. "That's not going to happen." Hazel eyes turned down onto her, and the girl nodded.

"I know," she promised, "but … but it doesn't matter what we believe, does it? Only if Dean does." She glanced over at Sam's shoulder, tempted to return to it, but she reluctantly chose to drop her head down onto the table. "Have you heard anything from Charlie and that weird Book thing?"

"Nothing yet. She usually checks in at the end of the week." Sam's head swiveled at the sound of a door slamming, and Alex squeezed her eyes shut, trying to pick up on any approaching footsteps. It was Dean for sure — Castiel was still out with the First Blade — but she couldn't pinpoint his location. "Looks like Dean's up." Sam spoke up, and Alex lifted her head. "I'm going to go see how he's doing."

The Winchester walked away, and Alex waited only a few second before she followed after him. She could smell the faint scent of coffee, made earlier in the day by Sam, and she followed her nose to the kitchen. "Morning," she heard Sam say, and he was answered by a low, tired grunt.

Dean stood by the kitchen counter, a ceramic mug in his hands as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the glass pot. He didn't look up as Alex entered, his dull green eyes focused on his drink, and Alex frowned at his bruised, the scrapes accentuated by the paleness of his skin. He let out another grunt of frustration as he watched the last few drops fall into his cup.

"Here. Let me make some more." Sam stepped forward to take the coffee pot. "I think I need another cup myself."

"Yup." Dean easily relinquished his grip and crossed the room to sit down at the kitchen table, his steps still unsteady, but stronger than they had been when they had first returned to the bunker.

Alex glanced over at Sam with a small frown, and her concerned look was matched as the Winchester filled the coffee reservoir with tap water. The machine hummed as it started, and Alex leaned up against the doorway as she watched Dean take a sip from his mug.

Neither Sam nor Dean spoke while the coffee brewed; Dean's eyes were distant, lost in his thoughts, and Sam watched him silently. He didn't speak again until the machine stopped. "Dean, um ... " he began, picking up the coffee pot to pour himself a mug, "what you did back there … it was incredible. You know, if you can do that without losing yourself …" He crossed the room to sit down across from his brother, and Dean finally lifted his head to meet Sam's gaze. "That's cause for hope, even without a cure."

"Yeah." Dean's response was distant, and his eyes dropped back down onto his mug. "Maybe." The sound of footsteps approaching had him looking up, and Alex turned to see Castiel enter the room, blue eyes drifting across the four of them. "So, where's the Blade?"

"Somewhere safe." Castiel stopped at Alex's side, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder momentarily, and Alex leaned into his shoulder with a tired hum.

"Good." Dean pushed himself to his feet with a shake of his head. "Well, if you guys will excuse me, I think I'm gonna go sleep for four days." He brushed past them, pausing briefly to pat Castiel on the shoulder, and the seraph watched him go with a contemplative frown.

"How is he?" He looked down at Alex, but the ex-angel just shrugged, deflecting the question onto Sam with a nod of her head. Castiel understood, turning his gaze to the Winchester. "Sam?"

"Cas …" Sam's eyes watered slightly, and the hunter blinked, shaking his head to chase away the tears. "Dean's in trouble." His gaze turned towards the door through which his brother had disappeared, and he shook his head again, slow with fear and regret. "He …"

"Give him time." Alex stepped away from her mate to sit down across from Sam, eyes flickering up to see Castiel's concerned features. She knew her voice sounded as hopeless as she felt, and the ex-angel squared her jaw in an attempt to cheer the hunter up. "He's recovering from the fight and from the Blade. That takes time. Maybe … maybe he's stronger than you think."

Sam hesitated, and his hazel eyes flickered with hope. "Maybe," he reluctantly admitted, and he pushed himself to his feet. "I'm going to go call Charlie. Maybe she's found something." He picked up his mug and disappeared out of the kitchen, and Alex leaned back in her chair with a drawn-out sigh.

"What about you?" she asked, tipping her head back to look at Castiel. "Are you going to stick around for a bit?"

"Not today." Castiel stepped up behind her, warm hands coming to rest on her shoulders. "I promised Hannah I would meet with her to discuss heaven's options for restructuring. I won't be gone long." He bent down, lips pressing against her blonde hair, and Alex closed her eyes with a reluctant hum. The kiss lingered a second longer before the seraph pulled back, and Alex let her head fall to her chest as his footsteps faded away.


	15. Paint it Black

_**A**_ _crid smoke burned at her lungs, and Alex's eyes watered as she flinched away from the flames. "Sam? Dean!" Timbers cracked high above her head, drowning out the brothers' cries, and the girl flinched away as embers burned at her exposed skin. The fire was all around her, caging her in, licking at her jeans, and Alex squeezed her eyes shut, reaching inside for her grace. "No!"_

 _Her scream echoed through the silent room as the fire disappeared, vanishing into thin air and leaving the wooden walls without so much as a charred stain. The flickering heat vanished, and Alex cracked open her eyes, searching for the cause of their withdrawal. She was standing in a kitchen, empty save herself. Alex lifted her hands, turning them over as she examined the black, flowing script that decorated every inch of her skin. There was a meaning to the foreign words - the ex-angel was sure of it, but when nothing but a fog came, and she gave up and turned her eyes upwards to examine her surroundings. A large kettle sat on the stove, the blood-red liquid inside bubbling as it boiled. The walls were painted red, too, still wet as if recently painted, and Alex inhaled sharply as her eyes drifted downwards. It wasn't just the walls._ Everything _was red. Everything was wet._

 _Blood._

 _The word had no sooner crossed her mind than the liquid began to move, flying off of the countertops and shooting past the ex-angel's head. "You." A voice came from behind her, and Alex turned to face the girl._

 _Tina stood behind her, her face pale and expressionless. "You did this to me," she repeated, and blood seeped from the corner of her eye, rolling down past her lips. "You killed me."_

 _Alex felt her grace tremble through the air, growing stronger and stronger until every fiber of her being began to shake, pulled apart at its very foundations. She felt a scream leave her throat, drown out by the teen's own cry. Her body was cracking, blood oozing from the skin as the woman was ripped open, and Tina exploded into a shower of blood. "No!" Pain ripped through her own skin, tearing away at the elegant lettering, and Alex's legs gave away beneath the agony. "No!"_

 **"N** o!" Alex jerked awake with a strangled cry, hands going to steady herself on whatever object it found first. They landed on leather, and the hunter planted her palm against the backseat of the Impala with a shuddered breath.

She felt the car jerk slightly, and she grimaced as she felt two sets of eyes turn onto her. "Hey, hey." A hand was on her shoulder, warm and comforting, and Alex instinctively reached up to grab it, holding tight to ground herself. "You're okay." Sam squeezed gently, and the ex-angel shivered as she forced herself up. "It was just a dream."

Just a dream. The pain still lingered, and Alex chanced a look down at her skin. It was pale and smooth, unmarred by the torments she had endured. "Yeah," she agreed and swept a hand through her hair, trying to chase away the adrenaline that still pumped through her veins. "I know. I'm fine, I'm fine. Don't worry," she added when she saw Sam's hesitant frown. "Human me and my human brain still have some adjusting to do for human sleep."

"Cain?" Dean's eyes had long since returned to the road, and Alex was thankful for the darkness that hid their faces; she felt her face pale as the images of her dream returned.

She covered her fear with a huff. "I wish," she retorted. "I'd take him over half the things we face." Once again, her hands went up to her hair, and she hurriedly brushed her fingers through it before pulling it back into a bun. "Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. You, uh — you mind going over this case you said you found again?"

"Alright. So I'm thinking, uh, curse, maybe," Dean explained, and Alex watched as Sam let out a small, skeptical hum. "Hey, I'm trying to stay busy," the eldest Winchester was quick to snap. "You know, eye on the ball, not on the mark. And this is a case until we know it's not."

"Uh, sure — no, yeah, you're right." Sam shifted apologetically in his seat, clearing his throat as he gave Dean his full attention; a glance in the rearview mirror had Alex doing the same. "Uh, three suicide, two weeks."

"They're not just suicides." Dean scoffed at the description. "They gutted themselves. And they took their sweet time doing it. I mean, that had to be _incredibly_ painful.I can't seem to find any link between the vics either." He looked over at Alex, and the ex-angel nodded, wincing as she recalled the violent and gruesome images.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I guess a curse would make sense. So, probably witches."

"Except there's no link between the vics," Sam reminded, and Alex half-heartedly kicked at his side of the seat.

"No link that you've found," she reminded. "Every serial gutting as a link." A glare from Dean had her pulling her feet back up and under her, muttering out an apology about kicking at the car. "How long until we reach Massachusetts?"

"Five hours, maybe four if we get lucky." Dean leaned forward to look up at the sky, the distant horizon grey with the coming dawn. "How'd you sleep back there, sunshine? Coulda sworn you were dead for a while there."

"Apart from the nightmare?" Alex forced a dry chuckle, and she reclined her head to close her eyes once again. "Not half as well as I'm going to once I get to a real bed," she admitted. "I'm going to need at least two cups of coffee before we roll into the police station in the morning." She tucked her jacket tightly around her, adding, "Being human sucks."

She opened her eyes to watch the grey horizon grow brighter, and she pushed aside her makeshift blanket with a reluctant sigh; there was no way she'd be able to fall asleep again, not with her heart still beating a million miles a minute. "Okay, can — can you run the details by me one more time? I wasn't listening when you first pitched this as a case."

"Worcester, Massachusetts." The engine revved as Dean accelerated around the highway's bend. "Over the past two weeks, three men have been found cut from sternum to pelvis — wounds seem to be self-inflicted. I haven't found any link between the victims yet. Cops are at a loss."

"But no — no sulphur, no cold spots, no — nothing paranormal?"

"Not yet." From the terse note in Dean's voice, he had had this conversation with Sam before. "But just because it doesn't smell fishy doesn't mean it didn't come from the ocean." His analogy had Sam and Alex exchanging confused looks, and the eldest hunter rolled his eyes. "Forget it. You — I told you already. Staying busy is the only way I'm staying sane."

"And we get that," Sam promised temperately. "We just don't know if running all over the country is, you know, the best thing right now." He ran a hand through his hair before his tone dropped. "Dean, we've been on the road for a week straight with nothing."

"And why did you have to drag me into this?" Alex rubbed at the faint bruising on her ribs, the remnants of her fight with Cain. "I thought I was on sick leave or something at the bunker — time off, vacation, call it what you want."

"Yeah, well, the team needs you." Dean merged lanes, slamming on the horn as a rusted truck slipped past. "Besides, you honestly want to tell me that sitting at the bunker is better than — than this?"

He motioned vaguely to the car, and Alex resisted the urge to kick him against through the seat. "Yeah, actually, it was a whole hell of a lot better. I was getting in some quality time with Cas."

"You mean sex."

"Shut up, Winchester." This time, Alex couldn't help but kick at the seat. "Yeah, I meant sex. Him and I, we haven't had a lot of 'us' time as of late, so you owe me big time for this." She batted away a half-hearted backwards swing of Dean's arm, the blow made slow and awkward by the fact that he was still driving the car, adding, "I swear, if this isn't a case, I'm killing someone and making it one."

Her joke was met with a chuckle from Sam. "Yeah. Sorry Dean dragged you out here. But, uh, he's got a point," he added when his brother let out a huff of annoyance at the blame, "and if — if you still want to hunt as a human, you're gonna need to get back on your feet soon."

"Of course." Alex dug her phone out of her bag to pull up the newspaper article that had first caught Dean's attention, slumping further down in her seat as she let the conversation die. "Whatever the two of you say."

...

 **May 26th, 2015**  
 **Worcester, Massachusetts**

 **T** he Worcester police station smelled of sweat and coffee, and Alex wrinkled her nose as an officer squeezed past her on his way to the break room. "This place is crowded." Alex stepped closer to Sam with a shake of her head. "You'd think someone had just been murdered."

She heard a laugh from up ahead, and Alex looked over at the chief of police, who stood at Dean's side. "This is Worcester," he reminded. "Never a dull day in the city of the seven hills." He waved them down the hall, and Alex watched as Sam and Dean exchanged shrugs behind his back. "You three said you were here about those suicides, huh?"

"Yes, sir," Sam agreed. "We'd like to see anything you have on them — files, personal items, witness statements. Anything that could be of use."

"Sure thing. Files are in my office, and if you give me a moment, I'll fetch their belongings from evidence." The man motioned in through a doorway, and Alex followed the brothers into the office as he walked off down the hall.

"These files, I bet." Alex picked up the three folders that sat in the middle of the desk, running her eyes down the side to confirm the typed names. "Here. One for each." She handed out the manilla files, flipping through hers as she waited for the sheriff to return.

Rylan Lee, thirty eight years of age. The man had torn his guts open using the splintered end of a chair. Alex grimaced at the picture of the weapon, her stomach clenching at the sharp, splintered and bloodied tool. "This is awful." She held up the crime scene photo for the boys to see, shaking her head in dismay. "Talk about painful — he did this right in front of a crowd of twenty people at a local AA meeting, too."

"Same here," Dean agreed. "Except this time, it was Mr. Briggs in the library with the knife." He looked over his brother, grinning at his joke, but when Sam didn't share in his amusement, the smile faltered. "His wife saw him do it," he finished, closing the file. "Definite suicide."

"And here are the items you asked for." The police chief returned, the boxes in hand, and he set them down upon one of the wooden chairs. "Anything else I can help you three with?"

"Not at the moment, no. Do you — do you mind?" Sam motioned towards the boxes, and when the man nodded, the hunter hurried forward to dig through the evidence. Alex and Dean followed more slowly, watching as the hunter pulled out a cellphone from the box labeled _Sloan_. "Is this all you found?"

"That's all that was on him, yeah." The sheriff nodded again. "Same with the other two — they weren't carrying much." He motioned towards the phone, adding, "We haven't been able to crack it yet."

"Huh." Sam took the phone out, holding it up against the light. "Uh, do you mind? The men at the bureau's crime lab could have this unlocked in two, maybe three hours."

"Have at it." The officer shrugged. "I don't get why you boys are looking into this anyways — open-and-shut, if you ask me."

"Thanks." Sam tucked the phone into the pocket of his suit coat with a curt nod. "Uh, thanks for all your help. If we have any more questions, we'll give you a call." He placed the file down onto the table, and Alex and Dean followed suit, stacking theirs on top of his.

"Thanks for your time," Alex added, and she slipped past the Winchesters to lead the way out of the office.

"Alright, so here's what we got." Sam was the first to speak as they exited the police station, and he lengthened his stride as he made a beeline towards the Impala. "Latest vic was Terry Sloan, ordinary guy who gutted himself outside of St. Philomena's Church using a candlestick. Not a lot of friends but no known enemies, no relation to the other vics."

"Well, not necessarily," Dean interjected. "St. Philomena — he's Catholic, and so are the other two." He looked over at Alex, and the angel gave a nod of agreement.

"Dean, this is Massachusetts." Sam rolled his eyes with a small scoff, and Dean frowned slightly. "There are a lot of Catholics in Massachusetts. You really think this is a case?"

Dean squared his shoulders as he stopped beside his car. "Who kills himself with a candlestick, alright? There's about a billion better ways."

"Yeah, but he _did_ kill himself."

"Alright, so, it was not a witch." Dean started a list on his fingers, and Alex leaned up against the Impala with a shake of her head. "There was nothing hexy found on him. Uh, possession? Could have been a demon."

"Yeah …" Sam hesitantly agreed, "but the point of a demon possessing a living thing is to, you know, possess a _living_ thing."

Dean's lips pursed at the criticism. "Okay, _agent_ , why don't you get that cellphone back to the bureau's crime lab, get it hacked like you told those guys, and, uh, we'll figure out what's going on with Terry Sloan."

He unlocked the car door, and Sam grimaced as he pulled the victim's phone out of his pocket. "Probably nude selfies."

Dean rolled his eyes, motioning to the car with a shake of his head. "I'm feeling good about this," he insisted. "Let's get a room and see what turns up, okay? Okay?" he repeated when neither Sam nor Alex responded.

"Okay," Alex agreed, and she slid into the back seat of the Impala. "Sounds like a great plan to me. Let's get a room, and then while you two try and crack that phone, I'm going to get coffee, alright?" She yawned as she pulled the car door closed behind her. "Being human's going to kill me."

...

 **"O** ne large mocha. Hot." Alex dropped her cash onto the counter of the small coffee shop, barely stifling a yawn as the barista counted out her change. "Thanks." Alex shoved the coins into her pockets, eyes falling momentarily closed as she drew in the bitter-sweet smell of freshly-ground coffee beans.

"Hello, darling." Alex's eyes snapped open at the voice, and she whipped around, adrenaline sweeping through her body. "Fancy a chat?"

"What are you doing here?" Alex dropped her voice into a hiss as she stepped away from the counter. "What — What the hell, Crowley?"

"Sit." The demon motioned towards a back table, and Alex pursed her lips as she looked around the shop. There were only a few patrons occupying the tables, their attention elsewhere, and the ex-angel gave a reluctant nod, unwilling to cause a scene. Crowley led the way, and she fell in step behind him, sinking down into one of the wooden chairs.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated irritably. "If Dean — if the Winchesters show up, they're going to kill you!"

Crowley's eyes darkened at Dean's name, but he brushed off her obvious bluff with a roll of his eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere," he chided. "There's naught a bar nor a liquor store within two blocks of here; you and I both know Rocky and Bullwinkle wouldn't even bother with this part of town."

"Okay, so ignoring your gross misrepresentation of Sam … I'm gonna ask you this one more time." Alex leaned forward, lowering her voice. "What the _fuck_ are you doing —"

The air disappeared from her lungs, and Alex squared her jaw as she fought back her body's impending panic. "Public space, cupcake," came the reminder. "Mind your manners." Crowley released his invisible grip, and the ex-angel drew in a gasping breath as oxygen rushed back into her chest. She almost missed how the demon nodded towards the counter as her name was called. "Go get your drink," he instructed, his voice irritably calm. "And don't forget to tip; these people work hard."

Alex narrowed her eyes disdainfully at the command, but she pushed herself to her feet and walked away, rubbing at her throat with a dark scowl. "Thanks," she muttered to the barista, and she dropped a handful of change into the brightly painted plastic cup.

Her feet carried her reluctantly back to her seat, drink in hand. "There. Happy?" Her scowl darkened further at the amusement in Crowley's eyes, and she dug her nails into her palm to keep herself from snapping again. "Okay, listen, if you're just here to get your rocks off by bossing me around —" She cut off as Crowley's hand raised, poised to snap, and the ex-angel drew in a slow, calculated breath. "How's hell doing?"

"It's hell." The King's voice was flat, his tone so low it was almost a growl, and Alex rolled her eyes. "I hate demons — pitiful, whining children. And they're terrified of her, with the way she carries herself around the place, messing with the natural order!"

"Her?" Alex took a sip of her drink, steeling her features as the molten liquid burned at her tongue.

"Rowena. My mother." Crowley spat out the name, and Alex cocked an eyebrow, pain forgotten. "This morning she grew a second head on one of my demons! Just to spite me!" His fists tightened in an uncharacteristic show of frustration, and Alex hummed to show her curiosity. "I don't know what to do about her."

Silence followed his words, and Alex blinked in surprise as she realized he was looking at her expectantly. "I — I'm not your therapist, Crowley." She planted her hands on the table, ready to stand. "I thought you needed me to — to kill someone o-or steal Dean's porn collection. I don't do feelings." The cold look in the demon's eyes had her relaxing back into her seat, and Alex shook her head in disbelief. "Okay — okay, fine." She leaned her head back in exasperation, letting out a low, exaggerated groan. "I thought you had her all locked up for, you know, killing demons."

"I did. And then I … un-imprisoned her. She's my mother," he insisted when Alex lifted an eyebrow. "What did you expect me to do, leave her there to rot in hell?"

Alex pursed her lips, unwilling to show her amusement at the demon's sudden altruism. "She, uh, must have been a good mother."

"She was the _worst_!" Crowley's voice boomed in indignation. "She was abusive, manipulative — she once tried to sell me for three pigs. _Three_. I was an attractive child, I could juggle. I was worth five pigs at least!"

"Uh … sure." When Crowley didn't offer an further explanation, Alex sighed. "So, if she was such a shit mom, why'd you bother to do her a favor? Not to be rude, but you're the King of Hell, not the King of Cuddles." She watched as Crowley's face tightened, and she quickly matched his frown. "Hey," she defended, "you're the one coming to me before I've had a chance to finish my coffee. You want good quips, you come when I'm awake. And why — why am I your go-to for this?"

"You've been through this before, haven't you? With your father." Crowley motioned between the two of them, leaning forward insistently. "You know what I'm feeling."

"Yeah, I'm probably not the best character witness on this one." Alex took a sip of her drink with another roll of her eyes. "I almost killed my dad."

"But you didn't."

"Because I _missed_." The ex-angel slammed her drink down, eyes hardening in frustration. "Look, you want to impress your mommy, do something nice for her. Take her out to dinner, bring her the — the head of her mortal enemy. I don't care." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a couple glance their way, and she lowered her voice. "Listen, I've only met Rowena once, and no offense, but she seems like she's good at manipulation." Crowley's snort proved her right, and the ex-angel pursed her lips. "So whatever you do, just be careful about it. Keep her on your good side, you know?"

"Trust me, I know." Crowley's face darkened. "However, you have given me an idea. Thank you." He rose to his feet, leaving Alex in her chair, stunned at the genuine display of gratitude. "Ah, that reminds me. Do you know what day it is? Exactly one year from now, and that pretty little soul of yours is mine. Enjoy."

"A…nd there it is." Alex pushed herself out of her seat, shaking her head as the demon vanished without another word, and the sides of her cup caved under her tight grip. "Great." Never mind what Crowley thought. Castiel would find their grace before then. She relaxed her grip, finishing her coffee and tossing the disposable cup into the trash. She would be free long before the year was up.

...

 **"U** p and at 'em." A swat to the back of her calf had Alex's eyes flying open, and she jerked awake from where she lay on the thin motel mattress. Adrenaline rushed through her chet, and the ex-angel jumped up in time to see Dean making his way to the bathroom. "New murder, new lead. Get dressed."

Alex glanced over at Sam, who was sitting at the small kitchen table, but the tall hunter showed her no sign acknowledgement, his attention fully on the phone up against his ear. Muttering curses under her breath, Alex slid out from under the covers. She quickly shucked off her shirt and began dressing herself in her slacks and oxford. "Sammy." She lifted her voice so the Winchester could hear her, turning to face him as she buttoned up her white shirt. "Can I borrow a tie? I'm feeling like it's a tie day for me. Skinny, if you brought one."

"Uh, yeah, let me see what I have." Sam brushed past her as he crossed to his bag, hanging up his phone and tucking it into his pocket. "Uh, is black okay? I think I saw it earlier."

"Yeah, that's great." Alex dropped down onto the bed, tossing her dark blazer up near the huddle of blankets as she pulled out her phone. "What did I sleep through? Dean said murder."

"Damn straight I did." Dean stepped out of the bathroom, pausing briefly to check his reflection in the black screen of the tv before he dug the Impala's keys out of his pocket. "We're meeting the cops down at the station in five minutes, then we're headed over to talk with Father Delaney. He's the cleric for all of our victims, by the way." Teeth flashed in a grin, still proud of yesterday's revelation, and Alex rolled her eyes as the Winchester finished filling his pockets with his phone and wallet.

"Alright, Kojak. Just promise me we can get breakfast afterwards, alright? Now that I'm human, this schedule is _literally_ killing me." She patted her stomach, which growled as if on cue.

She heard Sam scoff. "Right," he retorted, "like you haven't been human every other day for the past year."

Alex threw a dark glare in his direction, sticking out her tongue when she couldn't think up a strong retort, and she rose to her feet when Dean swatted her on the shoulder. "Come on. There's donuts from yesterday still in the car." Dean led the way out of the motel room, and Sam followed, tossing Alex his tie on the way out. The angel slung it around her neck, pulling the door closed behind as she crossed the parking lot after the brothers. She paused, trying to quickly tie the tie in the window, but the revving of the engine had her giving up on her futile progress and climbing inside.

The donuts were in the backseat, and Alex pulled out a stale sugar one as the Impala rolled off down the street. "Okay, so what did I miss while I was sleeping?"

"Wonderful wife and mother of two Lisa McCarthy murdered her husband Frank with a pair of scissors."

"I talked with the deputy, and he says she claims that she doesn't remember anything," Sam added. "Sounds like possession to me."

"We'll talk to the sheriff if you want to head downstairs to the coroner's and get the lowdown on the corpse." Dean turned the Impala down another road, and Alex tore a chunk off of her stale breakfast before stuffing it into her mouth. "How's that sound?"

"Sounds amazing," Alex mumbled around her mouthful. "I'll take dead bodies over live ones anyday."

The car pulled into the wide parking lot of the municipal building, and Alex shoved the last of her hasty meal into her mouth, accepting the laminated ID from Sam as she wiped her hands off on the leather seat when Dean wasn't looking. She followed the Winchesters in through the doors, breaking off to make her way down the stairs in search of the coroner's office.

"Hello?" She approached an empty desk, tapping on the small silver bell that sat within her reach. "Anyone home?"

The door swung open, revealing a bright-eyed, flustered young man. "Sorry." The apology was rushed as he came to stop beside the desk, smoothing down his white lab coat while simultaneously adjusting his askew glasses. "Busy morning. A murder always sends me scrambling —"

"Frank McCarthy." Alex dug around in her pocket for her badge. "Yes, I know. Agent Barker, FBI. Do you mind?"

She gestured off towards the door the man had hurriedly bustled through, and the doctor blinked in surprise. "Uh, yes, yes, of course. I'm Dr. Shaw. Please, call me Henry." He extended a hand, but drew back and turned away before Alex could shake it, his attention already elsewhere. "Just follow me," he continued, hurrying back through the door, and Alex frowned as she let her outstretched hand fall back to her side before she followed. "You'll have to excuse the mess. Like I said, a murder —"

"Always sends you scrambling," Alex finished, and she peered in through an open door as she spoke; piles of papers almost completely hid a metal desk, and the filing cabinets lay open and disorganized. "You must get a lot of them, then."

Her comment went unheard, and the coroner pushed his way into the autopsy room. "Now," he began as Alex followed, "I haven't gotten past the preliminary examination, but so far, everything definitely points to murder."

"I'd hope so." Alex's response was dry as the man pulled open one of the metal doors to roll out a sheet-covered corpse. "The wife all but confessed." She pulled out a pair of latex gloves from their box as Dr. Shaw drew back the sheet.

At least a dozen stab wounds decorated the pale skin, the lack of blood allowing for a clear view of the gaping holes. "Fourteen puncture wounds in total," the man explained. "Three of which would have been fatal all on their own." He pointed towards the large wound in the neck for emphasis. "Two severed the carotid, one punctured the heart."

Alex stuck a finger into the wound in the chest, peering past the mangled flesh to catch sight of the dark-muscled wall of the cardiovascular organ. "Huh. Nothing weird or abnormal?"

"Nothing apart from the complete and utter overkill," came the distracted response, and Alex looked up to see him flipping through the papers on the clipboard. "If you ask for my professional opinion, the wife found out that he was homosexual."

Alex blinked, taken aback by the sudden, intensely focused look in his gaze as he locked eyes with her. "Um … okay. I'll definitely take that into consideration." The ex-angel tossed her gloves into the hazardous waste bin, shaking her surprise off by rolling back her shoulders. "Looks open and shut, but have the sheriff give us a call if anything weird turns up, huh?"

"On it." The coroner's hand came up in a half-salute, and Alex refrained from rolling her eyes until she was out of the room.

Her feet carried her back down the hall and up the stairs, where both Sam and Dean were waiting in the lobby. "Hey," she greeted, shoving her hands into her pockets as she joined them beside the door. "Find anything?"

"Well, there's no denying that the wife did it. She was covered in his blood, and her prints were all over the murder weapon." Dean pushed his way out onto the sidewalk, and Sam and Alex followed. "But she hasn't changed her tune — she still claims she has no memory of it happening. You?"

"Apart from the realization that the coroner is a highly-functioning imbecile? Not much." Alex shook her head, rolling her eyes around in her skull as she circled around to the back door of the Impala. "He thinks the wife killed him because she found out he was gay." She tugged on the door, frowning when she found it locked. "He's right about it being a crime of passion, though," she added as she waited for Dean to open the car. "There were way too many injuries for there not to be an emotional component."

"Well, maybe Father Delaney will know something about it." Dean unlocked the Impala, and all three climbed inside. "How does church and then lunch sound?"

"Sounds wonderful." Alex reached for her seatbelt as the car purred to life, and Sam echoed her sentiment as the Impala rumbled off towards the road.

...

 **T** he beautiful grey stone walls of St. Philomena's church glowed in the sunlight, the spires stretching towards the cloudless sky, and Alex let her eyes wander across the gothic architecture as a note of amazement vibrated in her throat. "This is the place, huh?" She slammed the Impala door behind her, tearing her eyes away to look over at the two brothers. Sam's gaze also lingered on the building, but Dean was already crossing the street, giving the church little more than a disinterested glance.

A man stood on the stairs, dressed in the recognizable attire of a catholic clergyman, and he lifted his head as the three approached. "The FBI, I assume," he greeted as they climbed the stairs, and he extended a hand towards Dean. "Father Delaney."

"Agent Allman," Dean introduced. "This is Agent Betts, and our partner Agent Barker." He motioned to Sam and Alex in turn, and the ex-angel stepped forward to shake the man's hand. The warm light in his eyes reminded her of Father Greg Paske, the old man who had taken her and Castiel in the fall, and she met the man's smile with one of her own, echoing his soft greeting. "I'm sure you've heard about Frank McCarthy's death," Dean added, speaking over Alex, and sadness creased Delaney's worn face.

"Of course. It always saddens me to hear about the death of one of our own, and especially in such a terrible manner. But … that seems to be the pattern as of late, doesn't it?" The man's shoulders fell, and he pushed open the doors to St. Philomena's church. "I just can't believe Lisa McCarthy would murder her husband." He shook his head as he led the way through the front doors of the church, and Alex lifted her head to take in the high ceilings and wide windows, the stained glass sending rays of color across the marble floor.

"Right, well, his blood was all over her body," Sam slowly began, hesitant with the truth, and Alex quickened her step to walk at the Winchester's side. "And her prints were all over the pair of scissors that butchered him."

"That's terrible." Genuine sympathy lined the Father's voice, and he paused halfway down the center aisle to turn and face the hunters.

Sam nodded in agreement, and Dean did the same before adding, "Now, we also have some questions. Um, for starters, she has no memory of it. The last thing she remembers is being here. Frank had gone to confession."

"So," Sam continued, "if he happened to say anything in the confession about, you know, maybe problems with the wife …"

"I'm sorry." Father Delaney gave another shake of his head as he denied the Winchester's request. "The nature of confession is confidential. Between them and God," he clarified when Alex pursed her lips together tightly.

"Father," she began, "this is a murder investigation. Anything you can tell of us will be of use. All of these people who have died — they all attended this church. Could you at least say if they had all been to confession recently?"

"Well, yes," the man agreed slowly. "These men were fairly regular, but then, so are the majority of the folks here." The approach of a young woman clothed in the traditional grey garb of a nun had Father Delaney pausing, a hand stretched out to gesture towards the new arrival. "Ah. Agents, Sister Mathias is our Director of Social Services. I've asked her to show you around and answer any questions."

He stepped away, and Sister Mathias took his place in front of the three hunters. "Agents …?"

"Allman." Dean motioned to himself, and then to Sam and Alex in turn. "And Agents Betts and Barker."

"Sister," Sam began, one hand coming up to adjust the his red striped tie, "you're aware of the recent string of deaths, right?"

"Yes, what a terrible tragedy." The young woman looked between the three of them, perplexity darkening her wide eyes. "But I'm confused as to why you're here. These were all suicides, weren't they?"

"Well," Sam hesitantly corrected, "possibly not."

"Murders?" The nun's eyes widened even further, and she looked up at Dean in search of answers.

The eldest Winchester have a half-hearted nod of his head. "Well, the actual methods of killing was all identical."

"Ah, the M.O."

Dean chuckled out his agreement, and Sam tapped Alex on the shoulder, nodding towards the front of the church. "I'm going to go, uh, have a look around," he told them. "Uh, excuse me, sister. Agents Betts — uh, Allman." He cleared his throat, quickly trying to cover his mistake, and Alex stepped aside to let him through.

"I'll come with," she added, and she followed after Sam, leaving Dean alone with the nun. "If they've all gone to confession, maybe the common denominator is here." She nodded towards the dark confessional box in the corner of the room, and she heard Sam hum in agreement. The chirp of an EMF detector had her looking over to see the small handheld device passing over the candles beside the front alter.

"So … ghost it is."

"Well … maybe not." Sam tucked the device back into his pocket as he straightened up to turn back to Dean and the nun, lifting his voice over their conversation. "Sister, I've got a question. Is there a cemetery nearby?"

"You could say that." Sister Mathias frowned over at Dean, confused by the question. "The entire church is built over burial crypts."

Sam glanced down at Alex, and the ex-angel frowned at the unfortunate news. "Oh." Sam stepped past her, and she followed at his side as he continued his questioning. "Have you ever, uh, heard or — or felt anything strange or unusual?"

"Unusual how?"

Once again, the woman's eyes turned onto Dean, and the Winchester took over the explanation. "Like, uh, spots in the building that suddenly get cold or, uh — or maybe you feel like you're not — not quite alone?"

"Rattling chairs and teacups that fly across the room?" Skeptical amusement glittered in Sister Mathias' eyes as she looked between the three hunters, and Alex barely refrained from rolling her eyes at the jest.

Dean, however, couldn't resist. "Sister, are you making fun of me?"

"Really?" The amusement died, and Sister Mathias looked between the three of them in disbelief. "The FBI believes in ghosts?" She forced a chuckle. "I'm afraid I don't. If you'll excuse me, Agents, I have to get back to work."

Alex watched as the nun walked back off down the aisle, shaking her head after her. "You'd think for a nun, she'd be a little more open to the paranormal."

No response came from either brother, and she followed them back out of the church with a shrug. "Tell me you didn't think that nun was hot," Dean started as he jumped down the church stairs. "I think she had a little thing for me, too."

Sam scoffed loudly, his long legs carrying him after his brother. "Dean, she was married to Jesus."

Alex laughed as Dean frowned, but he quickly shrugged the comment off, his tone growing brisk as he got down to business. "Alright, so according to her, Frank cheated on his wife Lisa. You know, the whole theme of this case seems to be about guys doing their women wrong. Notice that?"

"Lee and Sloan both had known affairs," Sam hesitantly agreed. "But Lisa McCarthy was pretty convincing that she had no idea whatsoever she had killed her husband."

Dean chuckled, circling around to stand next to the Impala. "Oh, hot nun said that Lisa had no idea he was cheating on her," he promised. "So, maybe she was controlled by someone who did."

"Except we didn't find anything even remotely witchy." Alex crossed her arms across her chest as she faced the Winchester. "Maybe a ghost?" She exchanged a look with Sam, shaking her head as she relented. "No, I know you're right. There was EMF, but the whole place was built on a burial ground. _But_ , all of the victims recently when to confession."

Interest glinted in Sam's eyes. "You think Father Delaney's involved?"

"Or maybe something surrounding the confessional," Dean finished. "Hey, Sammy, how long has it been since my last confession?"

"You've _never_ been to confession."

"Well, that's been too long." Dean unlocked the Impala, pulling open the door with a grin. "Lunch first, and then we'll see what we can drag out into the open."

...

 **T** he sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, sending colored rays of light spilling onto the pews. Alex sat beside Sam, her eyes focused on the crucifix that hung high above the alter, and it was only the shifting of Sam on the seat next to her that drew her out of her thoughts. She cast a glance towards the side of the sanctuary, towards the confessional box where Dean Winchester sat with Father Delaney behind closed doors.

"It's been a while since I've been to church." Alex glanced over at Sam, careful to keep her voice low even though there was no one else in the sanctuary. "I used to go all the time with my parents, before my mom died."

"I … I went once or twice when I was at Stanford." Sam looked up from his phone, and the pew creaked beneath him as he stretched out his legs. "It's just after the — the apocalypse, a-and the angels, it's hard _not_ to believe in it all, but at the same time …" The Winchester shook his shaggy hair, unsure how to finish his thought.

"I get it. It's not … it's not what I thought it would be, that's for sure." Alex shifted closer to Sam, their shoulders brushing so he could hear her quiet voice. "Demons, the angels. God being awol." She forced a chuckle as her eyes turned up onto the altar where a cross hung suspended high above. "It was just so … disappointing."

"Exactly." Sam's voice rose above a whisper, surprised to find his opinion being echoed. "And Michael and Lucifer —" He cut off, averting his eyes from her in momentary embarrassment, and Alex bumped shoulders to pull his attention back onto her.

"Yeah, they weren't what I was expecting either," she quietly agreed, and her eyes fell onto the stone floor as she remembered the devil's gaze. The opening of the confession box door had her falling silent, and Sam quickly pushed himself to his feet as his brother crossed over to them.

"So," he began, "you think you had an eavesdropper in there?"

"Hope so." Dean glanced back towards the box as a women stepped inside to take his place.

"You better watch your back." Sam followed his gaze with a shake of his head as he turned back to Dean. "If we're right, jerks like you are just what our ghost is looking for."

"Fingers crossed." Alex stepped out of the pew, her dress shoes clicking on the marble floor. "Okay, so now what do we do? Wait around until Dean guts himself?"

"Let's head back to the room. Maybe we can dig up something about this church and those who are buried here." Sam waited until his brother nodded before he led the way out of the sanctuary and out onto the street.

"Wait!" A voice had them pausing halfway down the sidewalk, and Alex lifted her eyebrows as she turned to face Sister Mathias. The nun stood on the stairs, hand raised to get their attention, and the ex-angel felt Sam and Dean exchange a look over her head. "Agents!"

"Sister." Dean's teeth flashed in a wide grin, and Alex rolled her eyes as he crossed back to her, a slow, confident swagger in his step. "How can we help you?"

"I … have something I need to show you." Something darkened the woman's eyes, and curiosity drew Alex in after the Winchesters. "I … I think it might have something to do with the deaths."

"What do you mean?" Two steps carried Dean up the stairs to stand at the woman's side.

"Come with me." Sister Mathias slipped back into the church, and Alex hurried after her, leaving Sam and Dean to follow close behind. "I think I know who you're looking for." The nun kept her voice low, and Alex had to strain her ears to hear. "Her name is Sister Isabella Bianchi. She was a nun in Florence, Italy, in the 16th century. Her stuff showed up three weeks ago."

"Whoa, wait." Dean was quick to interject as Sister Mathias led them through a side door and down a flight of stone stairs. "You — you're talking about the 1500's."

The woman nodded. "I never mentioned her to you because it didn't occur to me that she was connected with the murders," she explained, stepping off the stairs and leading the way into a large, stone room. "Ever since I've been here, I've come across restless spirits of all sorts."

"Wait a second." Alex pulled up to a stop, and the other three humans paused as well. "You mean you not only _believe_ in ghosts, but you talk with them? Like Cole Sear?"

Sister Mathias blinked, but she ignored the ex-angel's last comment. "As a spiritual person, I've accepted many planes of existence," she explained temperedly. "And as I've said, they've all been harmless." Her blue-green eyes turned onto the thick wooden boxes that were piled against the walls, and her tone softened in regret. "Isabella was my friend. We had a lot in common, including … painful love lives. I wanted to protect her."

"You said she showed up three weeks ago when stuff from her home arrived?" Dean's own eyes followed hers across the items, taking in the large crates.

Sister Mathias nodded. "Yes, part of a shipment from a monastery in Tivoli. Her family's treasures found their way to the church, as with many of the great houses of Europe."

Alex glanced up at Sam, whose lips were pursed slightly in frustration. "You get that she got here _just_ before the murders started happening?"

"I finally realized that." The nun turned to face Sam, the slightest note of frustration straining at her voice. "And then I heard the two of you, and it made me wonder. That's when I read her journal." Sister Mathias crossed over to a box, where she carefully picked up a yellow-paged book. "It was given to her father right after her death."

"Sounds like a vengeful spirit," Alex finished, and she watched as both Winchesters nodded in agreement. "Looks like we were right after all."

"Yeah," Sam slowly concurred, "but 16th century Florence — she's probably buried over there."

"I assume," Sister Mathias agreed. "The journal ends right after her trial." She handed the book to Sam, adding, "Isabella talked a lot about her lover Piero. He was an artist, and … and unfaithful. When Isabella found out, she killed him." Her eyes closed momentarily, and Alex watched as she gave a slow, barely perceptible shake of her head. "His death was so horrific, she was convicted of witchcraft. They sentenced her to burn at the stake."

"Okay, well, if she burned, then so would her bones." Dean's voice was low with frustration, and he reached up to rub at the back of his neck as he frowned.

"True, but there's obviously something that's tying her here — to this church in particular." Alex motioned around to the boxes, her gesture faltering as she took in the large amount of relics around them. "It's got to be something that came over with her."

"True," Dean assented. "It's probably the journal, where she wrote about her life. Why don't we see if we can't find Isabella, try and slow her down." He motioned to Sister Mathias and Alex, and the ex-angel nodded in agreement. "Sam, burn it."

"Her … journal?" Confusion darkened Sam's gaze, and he hesitantly looked down at the old book. "Is that necessary? I mean, there might be more in here."

"Believe me, it's necessary." Dean's frown darkened when Sam opened his mouth to protest, and his voice grew sharp. "Sam, burn it," he repeated. "Alex, let's go." He waved Sister Mathias after him, and Alex shrugged over at Sam, unsure of how to console the tall hunter. "Alex!" Her voice on Dean's tongue had her hurrying after him back up the stairs.

...

 **T** he familiar weight of the shotgun rested against her side as Alex followed Dean back into the church, and the ex-angel touched her pockets to confirm the presence of her extra ammunition. The sky was already darkening, the black sky promising rain, and she shivered as a burst of wind brushed past her just before she stepped over the threshold into the holy building. Sister Mathias was waiting just outside the sanctuary, her hands folded in front of her, and her blue-green eyes widened slightly at the sight of the weapons.

"Where do you think she could be?" Alex pushed her way past Dean to make her way down the center aisle, teeth grit in frustration as she tried to push her non-existent grace out in search of the vengeful spirit. "We — we're definitely thinking spirit possession, right?"

"Yeah." Dean pulled his his EMF detector, swiping it across the pews as he looked for any indication of the ghost's presence. "Even though she's tethered to the church, she can still possess a person inside the church, ride them out, and then get yanked back after the kill," he explained to Sister Mathias as he turned the device onto the front alter.

"And … can ghosts be shot?" The nun motioned down to their weapons, and Dean lifted the gun so she could get a better view.

"This is rock salt," he explained, tapping the barrel where the shells sat. "If we spot her, it'll slow her down."

"You think she's still here?" Alex turned her gaze around the large room, eyes flickering across the stained glass. "And where's Sam? He should have burned that journal by now." She frowned at the warble of the EMF, and Dean motioned her after him as he pointed towards a side hallway. The ex-angel nodded, and she fell in step at his side as they stepped through the doorway. The buzzing got louder, and Dean quickly turned the device off as he paused outside a room. A wave in the direction of the nun told her to stay put, and when Dean pointed towards the door, Alex lifted her gun.

The Winchester pushed his way into the room, and Alex followed, gun at the ready and finger on the trigger. At the sight of Father Delaney, however, her weapon immediately fell back to her side. The clergyman was laying on the table, arms spread out at his side, and the hunter wrinkled her nose at the smell of blood, which was dripping from his fingertips onto the floor. His chest was ripped open, the gaping wound stretching from sternum to pelvis, and Alex shook her head. "Great." She stepped closer, a hand going out to touch the bloody skin of the priest's neck. "The kill's fresh. The blood's still draining — I'd say one minute, maybe two."

She turned back to see Dean's grim face, and she was quick to mimic his demeanor. "Alright," was all the Winchester said. "Come on." He led the way back out of the room, and the ex-angel shook her head, frustrated at the life they were too late to save. "She got to Father Delaney," she heard Dean tell Sister Mathias, and she quickened her step to move into the hallway after him. "She's around here somewhere. We got to get you out of here." He grabbed her hand, his momentum pulling her with him down the hall. "Come on!"

The nun's feet dug into the floor, and Dean almost fell as he was suddenly stopped in his tracks. He turned, mouth open to protest, but Mathias' hand came up, and the slap to his face sent the Winchester flying down the hall. "Hey!" Alex lifted her gun, cocking the weapon as she pointed the barrel towards the now-possessed nun. "Careful there. Let her go."

The woman turned from Dean, anger flashing in her eyes at the sight of the weapon, and the Winchester struggled to his feet, gripping his head in a low, angry groan. "Really, possessing a nun?" Dean scoffed loudly, and he rolled his eyes when she whipped around to face him. "Even for you, that's got to be pretty low."

"You're one to speak about baseness!" The ghost's voice hissed and crackled, and her lips drew back into a vehement snarl. "Lying, cheating infidels! The priest had to die. He made it his business to forgive you pigs — forgive you, when what you do is unforgivable!"

"Sam!" Dean's voice lifted into a shout, echoing through the stone hallways. "Burn the damn journal already!"

"You all deserve to die —" The ghost cut off as her body shivered, and Alex's finger tightened on the trigger as the shudders turned into convulsions. Suddenly, Sister Mathias dropped, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she hit the ground, leaving only the half-visible form of a dark-haired nun standing in her place. "No." The word fell from the spirit's lips, and Dean darted in, dragging Sister Mathias away and pulling her into his chest to protect her from the vengeful ghost. Isabella's eyes turned onto them, and the first hint of flames began to lick at the bottom of her skirts. "Sister!" Her voice grew sharp in a desperate plea, and Sister Mathias pushed herself closer to Dean. "Don't let them! You're my friend!"

The ghost's voice rose into a scream, and Alex lowered her weapon as the flames rose, engulfing the spirit and her cries. With a sudden, final rush of fire, the ghost vanished, leaving Alex alone with Dean and Sister Mathias. Her shotgun fell to her side, and the ex-angel swiped a hand through her hair as she shook her head. "About time," she muttered, flicking open the break-action lever and unloading her weapon.

She tucked the shells into her free pocket before brushing past the hunter, resting her gun against her shoulder as she lifted her voice. "Sam?" called out for the tall Winchester as she hurried down the hall, grey eyes stretched wide to see through the darkened church. "Sam? You okay?"

"Yeah." Sam suddenly appeared around the corner as she entered the main sanctuary, his own eyes stretched wide at the worry in her voice. "You guys? Where's Dean?" He placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently, and Alex reached up to place her own hand momentarily on his, a quick gesture of reassurance.

"With Sister Mathias. He's okay." She looked up into Sam's eyes, some of the concern leaving her face to find the hunter unharmed. "What the hell took you so long to burn that thing, huh?"

"I'll explain later," Sam promised, and his gaze flickered towards the door as Dean appeared, leading Sister Mathias by the hand..

Alex let her hand fall away from Sam's, taking a step back as she regarded the nun. "How are you doing?" She tipped her head, eyes softening in worry. "Personal experience has taught me that ghost possession is a bitch — uh, rough," she quickly corrected, eyeing the crucifix that hung over the alter. "It's rough."

"Yes, thank you. I … I think I'll be fine." Sister Mathias looked up at Dean, and the Winchester gave a small nod of agreement. "I'm just glad that Isabella is no longer able to hurt anyone."

"Yeah, she's gone for good." Dean pulled his hand away from her shoulder where he was supporting her, and the nun stepped away with a soft dip of her head. "Listen, you run into any more trouble here, you just give us a call, okay?"

"Thank you." The woman's eyes turned back towards the hall, and the tears in her eyes caught in the flickering candlelight. "I should go contact the authorities to take care of Father Delaney."

"Isabella got to him before we did," Alex explained up to Sam, and the hunter let out a long, resigned breath from his nose as he shook his head in disappointment. "Yeah. Sister, the police can be here in five minutes. Are you going to be okay on your own until then?"

"You're … leaving?" The woman's head tilted, and realization lifted her eyebrows. "The three of you aren't FBI, are you?" When Dean shook her head, she offered upa small smile. "You can go. I'll be fine on my own." Her voice softened as she looked over Dean, and Alex turned to Sam as she pretended not to hear. "I hope peace finds you, wherever you may go."

Dean's response was just as soft, too quiet for her to hear, and Alex fell in step beside Sam as he led the way out of the church. Rain pounded on the sidewalk, and lightning cracked through the sky with a sharp burst of light. "Ready?" Alex tugged her jacket tighter around her Dean stepped out beside her and Sam. The Winchester didn't answer, and Alex shrugged up at Sam as she followed him out into the rain.

The Impala wasn't far, but she was soaked by the time that she threw open the door and climbed inside. "Hey, hey," Dean warned as she shucked off her jacket. "Careful on the leather, okay?"

"It'll be fine." The young hunter tossed her damp coat onto the ground, groping around in the darkness for a sweatshirt she knew was somewhere in the back with her. "Just get the heat on so we can get dry."

The engine purred to life, and Alex reached for her seatbelt as the car pulled out into the street. She felt Dean drop his shotgun onto the backseat next to her, and she shoved it onto the ground with her own, shaking her head as she continued to feel around for her clothes.

"What took you so long, huh?" Dean asked as the engine revved. "What, did you spend that whole time reading the journal?" Sam shrugged, and and disbelief filled Dean's voice. "Wait, seriously?"

"You should be glad I did," Sam retorted. "It wasn't the journal that she was tied to. It was one of the paintings that her lover Peirro had done of her. She, uh, literally cut off her own finger and made grind it into his paints so she could become an actual part of his work."

"Ick." Dean recoiled at the idea, sticking out his tongue in disgust. "Who mixes their blood and bones into paint? No woman's ever done that for me." He chuckled, glancing over at Sam, but his brother only rolled his eyes.

"Is that you thanking me for not doing what you told me to do?"

"You know, if you had burned the journal, then we wouldn't know how to kill it, would we?" Dean reluctantly admitted, and Sam let out a small laugh at the slanted apology.

"Yeah, you're welcome." He slumped down in his seat, brushing his damp hair back out of his face. Silence followed his words, and Sam drew in a deep, hesitant breath. "You know …" he slowly began, "you were in that confessional a long time. Look, man," he quickly added when Dean stiffened warily, "I'm just saying, I'm your brother." He motioned between him and Alex, and the ex-angel straightened up in her seat. "We're your family. If you ever need to talk about anything with anyone, you got someone right next to you."

"Okay."

Dean's answer was short and terse, and Sam's lips pursed. "I heard what Sister Mathias said to you back in the church," he reminded. "Something about, you know, hiding your pain by taking on a mission, and I-I know that's what you're doing a bit. A-And it's okay. I mean, it's fine. I get it. I've done it before, too. And — and I'm sure Alex has too."

"All the time," the young hunter was quick to agree. "And I … I think what Sam's saying is that this Mark of Cain, it's not a terminal diagnosis. You're a long way from reaching the point of no return, and we're not giving up hope until then. So don't go making peace with the idea that — that you're unsavable."

"Exactly." Sam flashed her a thankful smile over his shoulder before turning back to Dean. "There has to be a way. There will always be a way, and we will find it. That's what we do. So … believe that."

"Okay, Sammy."

Sam cleared his throat in displeasure, and Dean adjusted his grip on the steering wheel with a frown. "You want to … uh, try that again like you mean it?"

"Okay." Dean's answer was more determined this time, but he didn't bother to expound any further. "How about we head back to the bunker?" he suggested. "I'm good to drive." He pressed down on the gas, reaching over to turn up the music, and Alex yanked her sweatshirt down over her head as the car sped off down the road.


	16. Inside Man

**"S** am!"

Alex jerked awake, eyes flying wide open at the hoarse yell. "Dean?" She yanked her angel blade out from under her pillow as she jumped to her feet, head whipping around as she searched for the source of the shout. "Dean!"

Her cry was echoed by Sam, already in the hall with his gun in his hands, and Alex rushed out to join him. "Where's Dean?" he demanded, but before Alex could answer, he pushed his way past her.

"No!" Dean's voice came from behind his door, and Sam kicked it open, his gun raised defensively. Alex followed, her own weapon at the ready, but it quickly fell back to her side at the sight before her. The Winchester was on his bed, eyes squeezed shut as he tightly gripped at the sheets. "No! No no no." His cries faded into whimpers, and Alex straightened up with a frown as his tossing and turning ceased.

Her eyes fell onto his right arm, the Mark of Cain visible just below the cuff of his jacket sleeve, and the shifting of his hand had her attention turning up onto Dean's face. Green eyes flickered open, landing on them, and Sam quickly dropped his gun to his side. "You okay?"

"Uh, yeah." Dean's free hand came over to cover up the Mark, and Alex dropped her eyes to the ground. "What are you guys doing?"

"Nothing. You were calling for us in your sleep." Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably, his feet carrying him out of the doorway. "We'll let you sleep." He motioned Alex out, and the ex-angel hurriedly returned to the hall, shoulders hunched apologetically as the Winchester closed the door behind them. "He's sleeping in his clothes again." Sam's hand lingered on the doorknob before falling away with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, that's never a good sign," Alex agreed with a sigh. She ran her hands down her face, head tipped slightly as she heard Dean get out of bed. "But, uh, speaking of," she added, raising her voice, "I'm loving the pj's." She gestured to Sam's matching navy pajamas, smiling at how his jaw tightened at her humor. "Is that embroidered?"

"You realize this is all coming from the girl who's not even wearing pants, right?"

"I was in bed. I don't need pants." Alex tugged on the hem of her borrowed shirt, drawing it down a bit further over her thighs. "Besides, your clothes are big enough to pass as a dress."

No retort followed her quip, and after a second of silence, Sam let out a sigh. "You should head back to bed. I … I'm going to give Cas a call." He shook his head, glancing at his brother's closed door and lowering his voice. "We got to do something, Alex. He's getting worse."

"You're right." Alex looked down at the weapon in her hand. "I'm going to go put pants on and I'll meet you out in the library."

"You don't have to," Sam started. "If you want to sleep —"

"After _that_?" Alex jerked a thumb back towards Dean. "No way. I'm wide awake. Besides, two heads put together are better than just one." She brushed past him on her way to her room, and a glance behind her showed Sam moving back towards his.

The girl flipped on her lights as she kicked her door closed behind her. She shucked off her shirt and reached for her bra, lips pursed together to hum mindlessly as she dressed. A black t-shirt lay on top of her dresser - a quick smell-test proved it clean - and she tugged it on before reaching for her jeans. Socks and a blue flannel completed her outfit, and the ex-angel paused only long enough to throw her hair up into a quick braid before she hurried back down the hall.

Sam was already in the library, his laptop propped open in front of him, and Alex dropped down into the chair at his side. "Dean's up," she announced quietly. "Or, at least, the door to his room's open again."

"Yeah, I know. He's in the kitchen making coffee." Sam pulled his phone away from his ear with a shake of his head. "I'm going to see if Cas can meet up with us. You know how far away he is?"

"He's in the area," Alex promised. "And he'll definitely be able to meet. What about Dean? Are we just going to leave him and hope he doesn't -"

"Doesn't what?" Dean stepped into the room, a coffee mug in his hand, and Alex snapped her jaw shut with an audible _click_.

"Doesn't get bored." Sam smoothly took over the explanation, and Alex nodded in agreement. "Uh, how'd you sleep?"

"Like a drunk baby." Dean set his drink down on the table as he sat down across from his brother. "Why would I get bored?"

"Uh, well, because there's nothing to do." Sam shrugged, motioning towards his computer screen with a shrug. "I mean, uh, no weird deaths, no demon signs. There's a Kitsune working some truck stops outside of Boise, but Rudy's on it, so …"

"Alright." Dean took a sip of his coffee before leaning back in his chair with an understanding nod, and Alex fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve, thankful the Winchester fell for Sam's quick thinking. "So, uh, snow day. I say we get drunk and shoot crap."

"Yeah, except we do that every day," Sam reminded him pointedly before he cleared his throat and shut his laptop. "Actually, I was thinking about seeing a movie."

"Yeah, that could be cool," Dean relented, and his fingers toyed curiously with the ceramic handle of his mug.

"It's a French movie."

"You mean like nudie French?" The eldest Winchester's curiosity heightened, and his eyebrows lifted as he grinned.

"Even better." Chair legs squealed against the wooden floor as Sam pushed his chair back. "It's about a mime that's secretly a cockroach."

Dean's head recoiled, and even Alex narrowed her eyes in pure confusion. "I-I-I don't get it," Dean finally admitted, and the ex-angel reached up to scratch at her head as she tried to picture the synopsis in her head.

Sam's voice grew defensively insistent, and he rose to his feet, hands planted on the table. "Dude, _The New York Times_ said —"

"Who cares?"

"Alright." The faintest hint of a frown displayed the Winchester's obvious displeasure. "Well … it's playing in Wichita, so I might not be back til morning. Alex, uh, you want in?"

The smirk on Dean's face made it clear what he expected, and Alex hopped to her feet with a small shrug. "Sure. Sounds interesting." She grinned over at Dean to see that the smirk had faltered, replaced by surprise and confusion, and she was quick to add, "Uh, are you — are you sure that you're going to be okay here by yourself, Dean? I-I can stay if you think you'll need me."

"It's fine." Dean brushed her concern off with a wave of his hand. "Besides, I could use a little 'me' time. You two lovebirds go and have fun. Make good choices."

Alex rolled her eyes, and Sam's lips pursed distastefully at the comment, but all he said was, "Alright. Stay out of my room."

"Totally." Dean waved them off, and Alex grabbed her phone off of the table before she followed Sam across the room and up the metal stairs to the bunker exit. She glanced over her shoulder as she paused beside the door, but Dean's attention was already back on his coffee.

"We can take my car." Alex jumped up the rusted steps as Sam closed the door behind them. "Okay, I-I — a mime that's a cockroach? What is this, a Ratatouille offshoot?"

Sam's head tipped back in a laugh, and he circled around to the driver's side. "I had to think of something to keep Dean here." He held out his hand, and Alex dug her keys out of her pocket. "How about you call Cas and set up a meeting. I'll drive."

...

 **T** he familiar sight of Castiel appeared in the distance, the tan trench coat blending into the gold siding of the car he was leaning casually against. His head turned at the sound of their approaching engine, and after a second, the seraph removed his hand from his pockets as the Marquis rolled to a stop behind him. "Hey, Cas." Alex threw open the door and got out, a smile on her face at the sight of him. "Glad to see you."

"Hi." Castiel's lips turned up in a warm smile, and he pulled her up into a quick kiss. "How have you been? Hello, Sam," he added as Sam climbed out of the front seat.

"Hey, Cas. Thanks for coming." The Winchester circled around the car, and Alex pulled away from the seraph to stand at his side.

"Of course." Castiel's gaze slid past him, searching the car, and a frown darkened his face as he looked back at Alex. "Where's Dean? You said this was about him."

"It is about him." Alex mimicked his frown as she glanced up at Sam, who took over the explanation. "He's getting worse," he reported. "Cas, we've gone through every other option possible. We got to talk about —"

"Don't say it."

"Do you think I want this?" Sam's voice grew heated, and he crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm not a fan of it, either. But if we want to get rid of the Mark …" He trailed off, barely holding back a resigned sigh. "I'm just saying, Charlie's gone radio silent, and everything else we've tried has been a dead end. So …"

"So Metatron is our best bet." The words tasted sour on Alex's tongue, and she spat onto the road to show her disgust. "But hey, desperate times."

Castiel's blue eyes flickered between Alex and Sam, hesitancy written in the lines of his face, but after a few seconds, he relented. "I'll drive," he decided. "The gate to heaven is close by. I'll take you there." He motioned towards the gold Continental, and Alex nodded, hand extended towards Sam for her keys.

She climbed into the backseat, settling behind her mate and leaving the front seat to the taller hunter. "How have you been?" She leaned forward, one hand squeezing the junction between Castiel's shoulder and neck as her mate climbed into the front seat.

"I've been good. Now that I've had time, I've moved the First Blade to a more secure location." The engine spluttered to life as Sam climbed in beside him, and Alex pulled her hand away. "Have either of you heard from Crowley? I imagine he's not pleased with Dean's betrayal."

Sam shook his head, and Alex fell back into her seat with a shrug. "I have," she admitted. "He didn't say anything about the Blade. He just … ranted about hell and stuff. Don't tell me anything about it, though," she was quick to add. "I'm gonna be the first person he'll go to if he wants it again."

"Don't worry," came the tempered response. " I had no intentions of telling you."

"Good. What about our grace?" Alex stifled a shiver, Crowley's parting reminder ringing in her head. "I have less than a year left at this point, and I don't want to be anywhere near cutting it close."

Silence followed her words, and Alex watched as Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "It's been a slow progression," he finally admitted. "If some of our grace did remain after the spell, then only Metatron would know where it is. The only angel with whom he may have confided in was Gadreel."

"And he's dead," Alex finished flatly. "Awesome."

"Maybe …" Sam spoke slowly, and Alex tipped her head in curiosity. "Maybe you should look into the possibility of finding something Crowley wants more than your soul. If you can barter for it —"

"Nope." Alex cut him off with a firm shake of her head. "He's fucking ecstatic about this deal. The only possible thing I can think of him wanting more would be the First Blade, and we're _not_ giving him that."

She watched as Sam and Castiel exchanged looks, and after a second's thought, Sam shrugged. "Maybe Metatron was lying," he offered. "Maybe the First Blade isn't necessary for the cure. And it's not like it's any use to Crowley without the Mark."

"If we're lucky, we'll be able to ask him ourselves." The engine roared as Castiel accelerated down the road. "Have you thought of what you're going to say to him?"

"Not at all." Sam reclined into the seat with a shake of his head. "You?"

"No. I'm not even sure if the angels will let us speak with him again." The seraph's voice was tight with frustration. "They were hesitant enough the first time, and that was before I broke my promise about keeping him safe. They may think it wise to learn from their mistakes."

Alex fell back against her seat, unable to deny the validity of her mate's words, and the car ride continued in silence. She rested her head against the glass as the park came into view, swallowing the flutter of trepidation that sat in her stomach.

The engine died, and the ex-angel slipped out of the car, reaching back to check her pockets for her weapon. The familiar shape of her angel blade rested against her skin, and some of the anxiety melted into relief as she followed Castiel onto the grass towards the playground. A man stood there, wariness in his eyes as the three of them approached the sandbox. He rose to his feet, stepping forward to block their way with a frown when Castiel showed no sign of stopping. "That's far enough, Castiel," he warned.

"Excuse me?" The seraph came to a stop in front of the angel, his head tipping in frustration and confusion, and Alex moved until she was standing at his side.

"I have orders." Didsdain flickered in the guard's gaze as he looked down at Alex, but his voice remained placid. "You aren't allowed upstairs."

Sam stepped forward to stand on Alex's side, his arms folding across his chest. "Says who?"

"Hold, please." The gate in the sandbox began to glow, and the angel's head tipped back as blue grace swirled out his body. It spiraled into the gate as a second stream of grace appeared out of it, disappearing into the vessel's mouth. The body shuddered slightly as the angel took over, and the dark eyes flashed blue with grace before fading. The face softened as those eyes focused on the seraph. "Hello, Castiel."

"Hannah." Castiel's voice equally soft, and Alex crossed her arms in displeasure.

The angel looked down the vessel, shaking his head in disappointment. "I swore I'd never occupy another vessel, but … we need to have this conversation face-to-face."

The softness in Castiel's tone died. "What conversation?"

Hannah lifted his head, ready to match the seraph's height. "What do you want in Heaven?" he demanded.

Castiel looked down at Alex, and the angel shrugged, letting her arms fall back down to her side. "We want Metatron," she admitted, doing her best to keep her words level.

"Why?" Hannah's gaze sharpened, head snapping back Castiel worriedly. "Is this about your grace?" he demanded. "Are you fading?"

"I'm fine for now," Castiel promised tersely, and Sam cleared his throat to draw all attention onto his as he quietly added, "This is about my brother."

"Because you think Metatron might have information about the Mark of Cain?" Hannah's eyes didn't linger long on Sam before once again returning to Castiel, and the seraph gave a small shake of his head.

"No," he corrected, "We _know_ he does."

"So he says. But Metatron lies."

Alex threw up her hands, frustrated with Hannah's lack of cooperation. "Listen, we just want to talk with him, okay?" She planted her hands on her hips as she held the angel's stare, ignoring the frown she was given by her mate.

"No, you want his help." Hannah shook her head, and Alex rolled her eyes. "But we both know the only way Metatron helps you is if he's free." Once again, Hannah's attention turned onto Castiel. "And I can't let the scribe out of his cell. Not again. He's too dangerous."

"We won't …"

"Yes, you will." The soft, familiar regret in the angel's voice told Alex Hannah had spoken those words before. "Because you're desperate."

"After all I've done for Heaven …" Castiel's voice cracked. "After all I've done for _you_."

"I'm sorry."

"You should be!" The seraph's voice rose, and Alex reached up to put a gentle hand on his shoulder, as the woods around them began to move. Three angels stepped out of the trees, the silver weapons of their blades glinting in the pale light. She tightened her grip, finger pads digging into his shirt in warning.

Her concern was echoed by Sam. "Cas, let's go." His voice was terse, and Alex looked back to see a tight frown upon his lips. He waved them away, and Alex tugged her mate after him.

"What?" Castiel dropped his voice into a frustrated hiss as he stalked after the Winchester. "We're leaving?"

"We can't fight off four angels," Alex retorted. "Even with you and me, that's pure suicide."

She watched as Castiel's shoulders fell, but his lack of resistance signaled his acceptance of the truth. "So … so, what?" he demanded. "You just want to give up on Metatron?"

Alex shrugged, but to her surprise, Sam gave a firm shake of his head. "No, we need him," he decided, and he lifted his chin as he led the way towards the car. "Time for plan B. We break him out."

"Break out _Metatron_." Alex circled around to the right side of the Continental, careful to keep her voice low as she shot a dark glare back towards Heaven's gate. "How are we going to get someone _out_ when we can't even get _in_?"

"We get someone on the inside to help." Sam climbed into the car, and Alex followed with a shrug over at her mate.

"Well, if Hannah isn't willing to help, then I don't imagine any other angel will, either," Castiel reminded. "What exactly were you thinking?"

"Well, uh, angels aren't the only things in heaven, right? There's, uh, there's souls, too. Maybe … if we can contact someone up there, we can get them to help."

Alex looked over at Castiel, leaning forward in her seat as she waited for him to respond. The seraph was sitting quietly in his seat, pensive concentration exaggerating the lines on his face as he thought. "It is possible," he finally decided. "If they could reach the gate, then I could get into heaven and retrieve Metatron myself. Who were you thinking?"

The engine roared to life, and Sam turned his eyes out the window back towards Heaven's gate. "I have some ideas."

...

 **T** he night air was warm, and Alex rolled her sleeves up past her elbows, tugging her hand out of Castiel's grasp to adjust her jacket before she reached one more time for her mate's hold. Sam walked a step ahead of them, the light of his phone illuminating his angular face. "You mind telling us why we're here?" She broke the silence of the night, and Sam looked back, surprised at the sound of her voice.

"Uh, so, back in the fifties, Oliver Pryce was a kid psychic.. He preformed everywhere — carnivals, Atlantic City … you name it. He was the real deal. Now, the Men of Letters were teaching him how to control his powers when they got … you know …"

"Brutally slaughtered," Castiel finished, and Sam gave a small nod, frowning at the blunt summary.

"The point is, he's one the good guys, and he's the closest one I could find to Heaven's gate," he finished. "He might be happy to see us."

"Or not." Castiel came to a stop, and Alex paused alongside him, following his gaze to the house across the street. A thick iron fence enclosed the property, which was overgrown with ivy and weeds, and more than one _Do Not Trespass_ signs hung on the rusted gate. She felt his hand squeeze hers in comfort as he lead the way across the street, and she followed, frowning as Sam's long legs carried him quickly past.

The gate opened beneath his touch, creaking as it swung inwards, and the Winchester barely paused to watch it rattle as it hit a large, concrete cinder block before he crossed the the yard and stepped up onto the porch. "Mr. Pryce?" He pounded on the front door, voice rising in insistence. "Oliver Pryce!"

"I'll break it down." Castiel dropped Alex's hand to reach towards the door, fingers outstretched, and Alex stepped back to protect herself from the blast.

"Dude, dude, due." Sam jumped forward to bat the seraph's hands away with a quick shake of his head. "Chill."

"What?" Castiel mimicked Sam by keeping his voice low as he frowned up at the Winchester. "I'm helping."

Hazel eyes flashed with barely tempered frustration, but the Winchester managed to rein in his emotions within a second. "Just follow my lead," he instructed, and Alex reached up to put a gentle hand on Castiel's shoulder as the door unlocked with a click. A thin, balding man stood on the other side, his eyes narrowed warily behind thick glasses. "Mr. Pryce? I'm Sam —"

"Winchester," the man finished curtly. "You're Sam Winchester, Man of Letters. Mind reader, remember?" he added when Sam's face went momentarily blank with shock. "And you're Evelyn Ross."

"Alex," Alex corrected with a mutter, but the psychic had already turned his attention away from her.

"And you're …" He trailed off, eyes narrowing even further as he regarded Castiel. "What are you?"

"I'm an angel." The reply came evenly, and Alex dropped her hand down to take his hand in hers, squeezing tight.

Pryce's eyes stretched wide, and they flickered between Castiel, Alex, and their hands, fingers entwined. "That …" His voice trembled, and he shifted backwards nervously. "No, you can't be!"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm an _atheist_!" The psychic's voice cracked in indignation, and Alex huffed out her amusement at the man's weak defense.

"Not anymore." Sam pushed his way in through Oliver Pryce's door, leaving the man no choice but to step back and let the rest of them through. Alex heard the door click closed behind them, and she turned her eyes around the cluttered living room as she waited for Pryce to join them.

"That you?" She nodded towards an old, antique poster that displayed a young boy, and she turned to Pryce as she searched for any similarities in the two's facial features.

"Was me." Oliver shrugged off her attempt at conversation. "I don't do that psychic stuff no more." The sharpness fell from his voice, and after a second, he added, "Being around people, it's kind of … hell. All those brains yapping all the time drives a guy bananas."

"Because you can hear everyone's' thoughts," Castiel finished.

Pryce nodded as he regarded the angel with a hesitant stare. "Well, not yours," he admitted. "All I'm getting from you is … colors. But hippie over here?" He jerked a thumb towards Sam. "I'm seeing some creep-ass hobbit looking fella and a prison cell?"

"That's heaven's jail." Alex looked over at Sam for confirmation, and the hunter gave a small nod of assent.

The psychic's thick eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Heaven's got a freaking jail?"

"Heaven has a lot of things," Alex promised. "And yeah, a jail's one of them. And we're looking to break someone out of it." She glanced over at Sam, taking a moment to draw in a breath before she continued. "We have a guy on the inside, but we need your help to talk with him."

"And if I say no?"

"You're the mind reader." Sam answered for Alex, and the ex-angel watched as Oliver Pryce's eyes stretched wide as he looked over at the Winchester.

Whatever the hunter was thinking, it was convincing, as the psychic ducked his head, dropping his gaze onto the carpeted floor. "I'll get my crap," he muttered, hurrying out of the room.

Alex looked over at Sam, an eyebrow cocked in amusement. "The hell did you think at him?" she teased as the psychic's footsteps disappeared upstairs. "I forget people can see you as scary." She ignored Sam's roll of the eyes before she turned back to Castiel. The seraph was studying the array of books and trinkets that decorated one of the dark bookshelves in the corner of the room, and she crossed over to him, momentarily resting a gentle hand on his back to let him know she was there. "Anything interesting?"

Castiel didn't respond, his attention instead drawn to the sound of returning footsteps. Oliver Pryce rushed back into the room, a black bundle in his arms. "Clear off that table," he instructed, and Alex gathered up the few belongings that sat upon it as the psychic dumped his things onto the wooden tabletop. Bowls, candles, and herbs were wrapped up in a black table cloth, and Alex retreated to put the handful of belongings down on the couch as the man quickly set everything up. "You — you're looking to speak with someone in heaven?"

"Yeah. Think you can do that?"

"I-I — I think so." A bowl clattered as Pryce bumped it in his haste, and he cleared his throat in apology. "Take a seat."

Alex dropped down in the chair across from him, leaving Sam and Castiel to take the seats on either side. Her nose wrinkled at the sharp tang of herbs in the air, and she asked, "What's in the bowl?"

"Bay, rosemary, and wormwood. I added a bit of cedar as well. I thought bit of amplification couldn't hurt," he hurried to add as he lit the candles. "It's been a long time since I've tried to communicate with the dead. You got anything that belonged to the deceased?"

"Yes. Right here." Sam reached into his bag to pull out Bobby's hat, and Alex felt her chest twist painfully at the sight of it.

"I want that back," she warned Pryce as the psychic set it in the middle of the table beside the bowl, and she only let the hardness fall from her eyes when the man nodded.

"Okay. Now shut up and hold hands." He stretched out his own hands, and Alex threaded her fingers through Castiel's as she reached over to grab Sam's hand, warm and dry. Pryce's eyes fell shut as the circle was completed. " _Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus_ ," he chanted, and Alex closed her own eyes, reaching into the back of her mind to translate the spell. " _Te oramus, nobiscum colloquere, apud nos circita._ "

 _Hidden spirit, we ask of you. We pray, speak to us, with us …_ The translation was rough and incomplete, and Alex cracked open her eyes in time to watch the herbs catch fire, flames licking at the cold air. Pryce's own eyes opened, and he nodded towards Sam. "You may speak."

"B-Bobby?" Sam spoke hesitantly, hazel eyes darkening in doubt as he lifted his voice. "Bobby, can you hear me? Bobby … we need your help?"

Alex tipped her head as the Winchester fell silent, breath bated as they waited for a response. "S-Sam?" Bobby's voice came from the center of the table, sharp with confusion, and Alex's head fell down to her chest with a wide, relieved grin. "That you?"

"Yeah, Bobby, it's me." Alex's smile was echoed by Sam, his voice cracking slightly. "Listen, Bobby … we need your help."

Silence followed, and Alex leaned forward, ready to speak, but then Bobby was back. "Course, boy. I'm always here to help. What's going on?"

"It's Dean. He's got the Mark of Cain — the Mark God gave Cain after he killed Abel. He needed it to kill a Knight of Hell, but Bobby … it's bad. At first, he was able to control it, but I don't know how much longer he can fight it."

"Cain said it's going to take him over," Alex interrupted, taking over the explanation. "That it's inevitable that he's going to kill all of us, and at the rate that it's affecting him …"

"Alex? That you?"

"Yeah, it's me. The Mark actually turned Dean into a demon for a bit. We got him back, but like Sam said, who knows how long he can fight it again. We need to get rid of it, and that's why we're here." Her words were met with silence, and she leaned forward curiously. "Bobby? You still there?"

"Yeah. It's just … real good to hear your voices again." The old hunter cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, his voice was firm in concentration. "Okay. If, uh, I'm understanding right, you got to figure a way to get the Mark of Cain off Dean before it turns him back into a demon?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Sam agreed.

"So just another day at the office for you boys, huh?" Bobby joked, a chuckle following his words, and Alex watched as Sam ducked his head in a small laugh, but Bobby's next words had him cutting off. "Put Dean on the line."

Sam looked over at Alex and Castiel, guilt in his eyes. "Dean's … not here," he finally admitted. "We … Dean's, uh … he's not in a good place right now, Bobby."

Another period silence followed, and Alex fidgeted in her seat as she waited for Bobby to speak once again. "So what's the play?" he eventually asked.

"Each soul in heaven is locked in its own private paradise." Castiel finally spoke up, and Alex felt his hand twitch nervously against her own. "That's where you are now. You need to escape. You need to find the gate to earth and open it. Then you and I will find Metatron, the Scribe of God."

"Hey, Sam, you remember when this job was just chopping up some fangs and tossing back a cold one?"

Alex smiled as the gruff words, and she looked over to watch Sam do the same, his hazel eyes glistening slightly before he pushed the emotions back. "I miss that."

"Ditto." Bobby fell silent for a moment as he reminisced, but he quickly shook himself out of his thoughts. "So, while I'm playing Steve McQueen, anyone gonna be looking for me?"

"Everyone." Castiel's voice was dark, his gaze focused on the golden bowl in the middle of the table. "The angels will not like a soul wandering free."

"We got a way to slow them down?"

"Not exactly," Sam admitted. "But, um, you'll … you'll figured something out, Bobby. You always do."

"Listen, I appreciate the warm fuzzy, but I ain't exactly playing in the big leagues these days. I'm mostly drinking and reading the classics." He chuckled at his words, but the humor quickly died from his tone. "Truth is, I'm rusty. And maybe there's someone better out there."

"Bobby, rusty for you is peak condition for most hunters out there," Alex teased, and she glanced over at Sam for confirmation. "Fact is, there's no one better. A-And with Dean … with Dean as he is, you're the only shot we've got. _Please_ ," she added when the old hunter seemed to hesitate.

She waited, her eyes falling closed in relief when Bobby let out a reluctant sigh. "Hell, I'm already dead. What's the worst that could happen? Alright, Cas, how do I get out of here?"

"You need to find your heaven's escape hatch." The seraph's tone was brisk and businesslike, nodding towards the bowl to show his appreciation of Bobby's help. "Look for something that shouldn't be there, and that's your way out."

"And if I find a way out, then what?"

"The gate is behind door number 42. All you need to do it open it, and then I will be able to enter Heaven."

"Give us an hour," Alex quickly added. "We need time to get to the gate before you spring it. Can you do that?"

"Course," Bobby promised. "But, uh, make sure you're there, okay? I doubt the angels are gonna let my pull this stunt twice."

"We'll be there." The flames died as Alex finished her sentence, and she looked over to see that Pryce had dropped his hands, breaking the circle. "Hey!" She pushed herself to her feet, and the psychic did the same, ready to match her challenge

"I can only hold the connection for so long," he warned. "You got the information that you need. Now get out of my house!" He turned away, and Alex tipped her head as she thought she heard him mutter the words, "noisy thoughts."

"Come on." Sam placed a hand on her shoulder, and the ex-angel let her posture relax. "We need to get going. We only have an hour, and we need to be there when Bobby opens the gate." He looked over at Castiel, and the seraph nodded in agreement.

Alex shrugged off Sam's hand. "You're right." She snatched Bobby's hat off of the table, holding it against her chest momentarily before she placed it on her head, tugging on the worn bill. "We need to get going." She crossed over to the door, pausing only to listen as Sam thanked Pryce for his time before she stepped out into the night.

...

 **"Y** ou sure he can handle this?" Castiel's voice roused Alex, and the ex-angel lifted her chin from where it rested on the back of the seraph's seat, her eyes trained out the window towards the darkened playground. A single angel stood beside the swings, having paused from his laps around the large, colorful metal structures.

"He's Bobby." Sam didn't tear his gaze away from the scene either, but the firmness in his voice left little room for dissuasion. "He can handle anything."

"It's barely past the hour mark," Alex added quietly. "It's going to take him some time to create a distraction and find the door. Have some faith." She shifted in her seat, eying the gate warily. "How are we going to take care of the guard on our side?"

"You and Sam will need to restrain him. If Bobby had done his job, hopefully the angels will be too distracted to notice that I've entered."

"Sam can do that on his own, right?" The ex-angel jerked a thumb towards the Winchester. "I want to come with."

"Alex, you're human." Castiel's lips set in a tight frown as he met her gaze through the rearview mirror. "Even if you're able to pass through the gate, you will be a beacon to all angels, especially with your soul as it is." Alex glared, fingers tightening around her wrist at the unspoken mention of her deal, but the seraph didn't back down. "Promise me you'll stay with Sam."

"Fine. I promise —" Alex threw open her door as the sandbox began to glow, not bothering to finish her thought, and she heard Sam utter an exclamation as he and Castiel followed. She took off in a run towards the playground, pushing herself harder when Sam's long legs had him surpassing her within seconds.

The angelic guard was approaching the sandbox, his brow furrowed in confusion, and he didn't notice the three of them until Sam bowled into him, sending both onto the ground. "Go!" Sam yelled at Castiel as he grappled with the angel, and Alex slid to a stop in front of them, watching as the two struggled for control. "Go!"

The sandbox lit up as Castiel leapt through, and Alex hesitated only a second before she flung herself after him.

The world lit up in a flash of hot, blinding white light, and Alex gasped at the sudden pressure that seemed to instantaneously crush all of her bones. Then everything was gone, and she hit the white tiled floor. Her momentum sent her skidding, her back colliding with a pair of legs, and Alex rolled away with another gasp of surprise.

Hands hauled her to her feet, and Alex's fists balled defensively until she recognized her attacker. "What the hell are you doing?" Castiel's face was mere inches from hers, his eyes ablaze, and Alex shoved herself out of his grasp. "I told you to stay behind!"

"I …" Alex's gaze slipped past him, and her mouth went dry at the man who stood behind the seraph. Familiar pale blue eyes watched her from beneath a worn cap, and that was all Alex had time to see before she threw herself into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and Bobby stumbled back as he suddenly found himself supporting all of her weight.

"Careful, princess." Bobby's arms supported her as Alex buried her face in his neck, eyes squeezed shut as she held him tight. "A man's gotta breathe."

"I missed you so fucking much." Her words were mumbled into the hunter's neck, warm and solid, but Alex reluctantly loosened her grip and dropped back down onto the floor. She could feel the wetness in her eyes, and she dragged her sleeve across her face to chase away the tears.

"I missed you, too." Bobby's shoulders fell, and he stretched out his arms one more time. "Alright, come 'ere." He grunted as Alex pressed herself into him, tucking her head just below his chin.

"I hate to break this up, but we need to get moving. The prison is close." Castiel's voice was tight with displeasure, and Alex stepped away with an unenthusiastic nod. "Now that Alex is here, the angels will be able to find us much quicker."

Alex scowled over at him, but she quickly let the expression drop away when she saw Bobby's frown. "I opened the doors to all of the heavens around me," he slowly explained. "That should keep them busy for the time being. And what do you mean, 'now that she's here'?" he asked. "I thought she's an angel just like you. And where's Dean?"

"You've … missed a lot," Alex began, but Castiel hurriedly spoke over her. "Dean's, uh … he's resting," he lied as he started down the hall. "He's … sick, and …"

"Try again." Bobby's voice was sharp, and he lengthened his stride so he could get in front of the seraph, planting his feet so they stopped in the middle of the hall.

Alex felt Castiel's eyes turn onto her, but she refused to meet his gaze; he had started the lie, and he could finish it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his shoulders fall defeatedly. "Dean doesn't know we're doing this," he admitted.

"Well, that's a page right out of the Winchester playbook, ain't it?" Bobby looked down at Alex with a shake of his head. "You're just going along with this?"

"What else could I do?" the ex-angel retorted. "Dean's completely given up, so we're the only ones left who haven't. You've been gone a long time, Bobby. Things have changed." She watched how Castiel's face darkened, and she nodded towards him. "Keep walking. You're the one who said we're short on time."

Bobby fell in step beside her as the seraph continued leading the way through heaven, and Alex shoved her hands deep into her pockets. "Everything okay between the two of you?" she heard Bobby ask, and she defensively shrugged her shoulders.

"Like I said, you've missed a lot. The angels fell from heaven, and they're only just getting back on their feet. The reason they fell … it's because of Metatron. He took mine and Castiel's grace for the spell, and I … we were human for a while. Then we stole grace from a few angels and were sort of … half-angels, and then I just recently lost mine because it was out of control." She yanked her hands out of her pocket as she scowled at the ground. "I'm human again until we find our grace — if there's any left."

"I'm sorry." Bobby's hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Alex leaned into the comforting touch. "So that's why Cas thinks the angels will be able to find you."

"Actually, it's because Alex sold her soul to Crowley, and now every angel within ten miles of here will be able to feel it." Castiel spat out the words, and Alex scowled at his tactless remark.

"You what?" The hand on her shoulder tightened, and Alex quickly shrugged it off before the grip could grow any stronger. "What were you thinking, you idjit?"

"God, maybe I was thinking I needed to save my fucking mate!" Alex's voice rose angrily, but Castiel just snorted. She bristled, Bobby forgotten. "You were human with no idea how to survive, the angels were hunting you down, and I had no way to see if you were okay! Did you want me to just leave you to die? And you," she added over to Bobby, "you can't talk because you _literally_ did the exact same thing."

Bobby frowned, but Alex felt her anger soften to see it was one of sympathy, not anger. "How long did he give ya?"

"Two years. That was last May. But as soon as we find my grace, that deal will be broken." Alex fell silent as Castiel came to a stop outside a door, and she looked around in confusion. "This doesn't look familiar," she finally admitted. "Are we near the jail yet?"

"It's on the other side of this door," Castiel promised, and Alex let her shoulders fall to find his voice still carrying a tinge of frustration. "You and I left through the other side when we were last here."

"You mean you've visited this place before?"

Alex looked up at Bobby, stifling a grimace at the memory. "More like ended up in one of the cells," she corrected, and this time she couldn't stop the twinge in her chest that returned at the memory of Gadreel. "Not fun."

She fell silent as the door creaked open, and she lifted her chin as she stalked in after Castiel. "Well, howdy, fellas." The familiar, grating voice of Metatron reached her ears, and the ex-angel felt her face tighten as they came to rest in front of the scribe's cell.

"This is the Scribe of God?" Bobby's gruff voice was sharp and scathing. "He looks like a Fraggle."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment." Metatron smiled over at Bobby from where he sat on the concrete bench, one leg crossed over the other as he regarded the three intruders. "That was an excellent program."

Bobby lifted an eyebrow, unsure what to think, and Alex glanced up to see Castiel's face darkening. "Metatron, we are here —"

"I know why you're here, _Asstiel_." The scribe cut him off with a wave of his hand. "And I'm not interested." He leaned forward, and anger sparkled in his dark eyes. "I told you I would rather _die_ than let Dean Winchester use me as his personal punching bag again."

"Don't worry," Alex promised, and she stepped forward, wrapping her hands around the iron bars. "Dean isn't here today, which means it's my turn. You get to be _my_ punching bag."

For the briefest of seconds, hesitation crossed through Metatron's eyes, and Alex smirked before his features returned to their resting appearance of calm control. "Ah," he chuckled. "The B team, huh? Interesting." He motioned off towards the far wall with a disinterested wave of his hand. "Keys are over there. Chop chop."

"Are you sure this is the only way?" The frown in Bobby's words was evident, and Alex's fingers tightened around the warm metal bars.

"Unfortunately." Castiel reached into his pocket to retrieve a pair of sigil-etched handcuffs. "Put these on," he ordered the scribe, and Metatron rolled his eyes when the seraph tossed them onto the ground at his feet.

Alex stepped aside as Metatron locked the cuffs around his wrists before he pushed himself to his feet, and two lazy steps carried him up to the bars. "Now, now," he chided at Alex's low glare, "I know we've had our differences, but bygones should be bygones."

"You stole my grace." Alex lifted her chin as she kept her voice cold. "You _stabbed_ me and left me to die."

"Yes." Metatron's smile faded. "But the important thing is that you survived, am I right?" The grin returned, and Alex scoffed loudly as she stepped aside to let Castiel through with the key.

The prison door swung open, and Metatron's smug grin returned as he stepped out of the cell. Castiel's grimace deepened, but he took up a position behind the scribe, a hand on his shoulder to guide him back out the door. Alex peered out into the hallway, waving them forward when the coast was clear.

The way back to the gate felt twice as long as the journey there, each glance around the corner tense and terrifying. Bobby took the lead, leading them briskly down the halls back towards heaven's gate, and Alex took up the rear, her angel blade drawn nervously as she kept a watchful eye over her shoulder.

She blinked in surprise as they stopped in front of door 42, and she straightened up, tucking her weapon back into her jeans. "Looks like this is it, huh?" Bobby kept his voice low, unable to hide the disappointment in his tone, and Castiel nodded in agreement.

The seraph pulled the door open, and light poured through, lighting up the hall. Metatron stepped forward, ready to leave, and with a scowl, Castiel held him back. "Alex, go first," he ordered.

"I'll take up the rear." Alex nodded towards the door, pointedly ignoring how the seraph's eyes darkened at her disagreement. "Get Metatron out, and I'll be right behind. I don't want to be here any more than you do," she hurriedly promised. The light glowed brighter as Castiel and Metatron stepped through, and Alex turned to Bobby, hesitation dragging at her feet. "I wish I could stay —"

"This ain't your home." Bobby shook his head, and Alex squeezed her eyes shut as she blinked back tears. "Here." The rustle of paper had her looking up, and the hunter pulled out two envelopes out of his pocket. "I didn't know if you or Sam were coming, but … give this to him, would ya?" He handed them to Alex, and the ex-angel kept them out only long enough to read the names scrawled across the tops.

"Of course." Alex threw herself into his arms, holding him tight as she clenched her teeth to keep the tears inside. "When — when we get our grace back, I'll come visit." She forced herself to pull away, and with one last look at the old hunter, she threw herself through the door.

The pressure crushed the air from her lungs, and Alex grit her teeth, eyes squeezed shut against the light. It was gone within mere seconds, and she felt the sand give way beneath her feet as she stumbled through. The wooden edge caught against her toes, and the ex-angel fell forward onto the hard dirt."Oh, smell that?" She could hear Metatron's voice, and Alex forced her eyes open as she shakily pushed herself back onto her feet. "That smells like freedom." The scribe drew in a deep, dramatic breath through his nose, and Alex glanced over to find Sam standing in front of the angel, his arms crossed. "Well, let's go. I call shotgun!"

"You don't get to make demands, Metatron." Castiel yanked the scribe back to his side with a growl. "You're not in charge here."

"Oh, I'm afraid I am." Metatron shook himself of the seraph's hold, his lips turned up into a smug grin. "I know about the Mark. I have your Grace." His eyes swung over to Alex as he spoke, and the ex-angel pursed her lips as his gaze finally landed on Sam. "I make the rules. It's called leverage. Learn it, live it, love it."

Sam nodded over towards Castiel, and Alex stepped aside to let the seraph grab Metatron by the shirt. He shoved him up against the metal pole of the swing set, and the scribe grunted at the impact. Castiel moved again,metal flashing in the night air. The tip of the angel blade sliced through Metatron's throat, and blue grace oozed out into a small, glass vial that Castiel held in his other hand.

The scribe's eyes stretched wide as his grace disappeared, and Castiel placed his palm over the wound, healing it before he stepped away, tucking the grace deep inside of his pocket. Alex smirked at how Metatron's mouth was hanging open, unable to process what had happened so quickly. "You —" Anger flashed in his eyes as he stepped away from the swings, but he cut off with a scream of surprise as Sam's gun discharged with a loud _bang_.

Metatron dropped to the ground, grabbing at his knee as he howled again in pain. "We have your grace, Metatron." Castiel stepped forward, and the scribe scowled up at them. "You're mortal now. So you _will_ answer our questions, or Sam will, uh, what's the phrase?" Castiel reached down, yanking Metatron's head up by his hair. "Blow your fucking brains out. It's called leverage, Metatron."

"Learn it, live it, love it," Sam taunted, and Metatron ripped his hair out of Castiel's hold. "Now, how do we get rid of the Mark?"

"I-I don't know." Metatron threw his hands up when Sam lifted his gun, and the scribe flinched away. "I don't know!" he insisted. "No, I-it's old magic — God-level magic! O-Or Lucifer level, but you can't ask him, exactly, can you?" His eyes turned onto Alex, and the ex-angel curled her fists at her side. She pivoted on one foot, her other leg snapping up to connect with Metatron's head, and the scribe fell onto the ground with a shout of pain.

"What about the tablets?" Castiel demanded, and Alex returned to her original stance with a dark scowl down at the man.

"No, th-there's … there's nothing in them about the Mark."

Sam looked over at Alex, and the ex-angel gave a small, helpless shrug. "So when you said 'the river ends at the source,' " he asked, "that was —"

"I was just making up crap, trying to buy time til I could screw you over!" Metatron watched as Sam scoffed, and he insisted, "What? It worked before!"

"He's telling the truth." The words sounded bitter coming out of Castiel's mouth, and the scribe looked up at him with an eager nod. Sam's eyebrows lifted, surprised at the seraph's decision, and Castiel stepped away. "Shoot him."

"No!" The yelled word was hoarse, his eyes stretched wide in fear as Sam lifted his gun to point it at Metatron's head. "No, no!" he begged. "Your grace!" He turned to Castiel, his hands clasped together. "I wasn't lying about that! There's still some left. I'll take you to it!"

Sam hesitated, and his hazel eyes turned over onto Castiel, who had frozen in surprise. "It's your call, Cas."

"I can take you there!" Metatron repeated. "There's enough for both of you. You — you want it to break her deal, right? T-That's why you need it!"

Indecision flickered in the seraph's gaze for a moment before he turned to Alex. The indecision hardened, and Castiel's face darkened. "Get on your feet," he ordered Metatron. "And get in the car."

Sam cleared his weapon with a grim nod of acceptance, and the scribe scrambled to his feet the best he could, stumbling slightly as his busted kneecap gave out under his weight. "You made the right call," he murmured to Castiel as the seraph moved past, and Alex hurried after him as he led Metatron back towards the Lincoln Continental. "Sam." Alex reached out to grab the Winchester by the arm, forcing him to stop as Castiel roughly shoved Metatron into the back of the car. "Uh, Bobby … he told me to give you this." She dug the envelopes out of her pocket, handing him the one labeled _Sam_.

"T-Thanks." The Winchester reverently took the envelope, his fingers running along the crumpled edges. "How — how is he?"

"He's good. He's happy." Alex blinked back the tears, sniffing to hold them in. She heard the car door slam, and she shook her head, stepping away and shoving her own note into her jacket. "We need to get going. Have … have Dean call me if he needs me, okay?" She glanced back towards the car to meet Metatron's low glare. "God willing, we won't be long."

"Of course. Good luck." Sam nodded towards her and Castiel, who had circled around to stand at her side, and Alex watched as he crossed the parking lot to where her Marquis was parked, hidden in the shadows.

She turned to Castiel as the car roared to life, shoulders falling apologetically as she met the seraph's gaze. "Listen," she started, "I'm sorry I followed you through the gate, okay?"

"Are you?" Castiel's head tipped to one side, his face darkening as he spoke. "Do you actually wish you hadn't gone along?"

"No!" Alex tipped her head back in reluctant agreement. "No, okay? I don't regret jumping through that gate, because I would have given anything to have seen Bobby again. I — I was just telling you what you wanted to hear, alright?" She narrowed her eyes as she turned to look at Metatron, unable to read the scribe's expression. "I'm sorry. I — I shouldn't be so hard on you. I'm just anxious to find our grace," she finally said. "Crowley's been on my ass about a lot of things, and it'll be good to finally tell him to fuck off."

"And it will be good to not have to worry about you." Castiel reached out to take her hands, and Alex took a step closer, ignoring the blush on her face. "We've lost so much after we fell … just imagine what we can regain." He dropped her hands at the sound of pounding against the glass, the softness in his eyes hardening once again. "We should get going," he decided, stepping back, and Alex nodded her agreement. "We don't want Crowley to come looking for you before we find your grace."

"Right." Alex circled around to the other side of the car, tugging open the rusty door as she slid into the front seat. She felt Bobby's letter in her jacket pocket, but she kept it hidden as she felt Metatron's eyes on the back of her neck. She slammed the door as Castiel started the engine, and the Continental pulled out into the street and disappeared off down the road.


	17. Book of the Damned

**June 5th, 2015  
Warsaw, Missouri**

 **T** he radio crackled through the worn speakers, but Alex barely heard the low, thrumming melody. Her attention was out the window, counting the telephone poles on the side of the road as they were lit up by the Continental's yellowed headlights. She could feel Metatron in the seat behind her, his eyes boring into the back of her skull, and the ex-angel shifted uncomfortably as the car rounded the bend on the highway.

"Our flashback playback continues with a song that climbed all the way to number four on the charts," the radio hummed. "Here's Alanis Morisette's 'Ironic'."

"Really?" Alex turned, surprised at the sudden and loud complaint from the scribe behind her as Castiel leaned over to flip the radio off. The seat jolted as Metatron leaned forward, his head level with theirs. "That song is a classic." He looked over at Alex, and the ex-angel pointedly turned her gaze back out the window. "Yeah, I hear you," he agreed, and Alex rolled her eyes. "I do. And you're right. Inclement weather on the day of your nuptials and the wrong cutlery at inopportune times is hardly ironic. But it sure is catchy."

Castiel's only answer was a low, barely audible growl, and Metatron fell back into his seat with a chuckle. "Yeah, fair point," he agreed. "Can't argue taste. But since I became human, it's just so … strange. All these feelings, you know? I mean, I can _feel_ music. Like that last song, 'Sussudio.' I don't even know what it's about and I love it! I always enjoyed lyrics, words, stories. Gives me goosebumps. And Goosebumps — don't even get me started on those. Creepy! And yet … arousing."

"Can I just kill him now?" Castiel's sharp words had Alex turning to see the seraph on his phone, and the passing streetlight illumined the dark scowl on his face.

"You know I can hear you, right?" Metatron leaned forward again, a frown on his round face, but Castiel paid the scribe no attention.

"Well, I'd like to kill him slowly," he told the person on the other end of the line — Sam, no doubt, and Alex shifted closer, hoping to catch part of the Winchester's familiar voice.

"I am like two feet away from you." The bench seat groaned slightly as Metatron pushed his entire weight against it, and Alex moved away with a barely concealed frown as he leaned even further between the two of them, his face in line with Alex's. "Every word — crystal clear."

"Anything on the Mark of Cain?" Castiel spoke over him, transferring the phone over to his other ear further away from Metatron. Whatever answer he received pulled his lips down into a frown, and Alex toyed with the hem of her jacket as she waited for him to hang up. "There is an answer out there," he promised. "We _will_ find a cure for Dean."

"I don't know why you'd want to cure that little firecracker now." Metatron let out a chuckle, his blue eyes flickering between Castiel and Alex. "He's finally interest — ow!" He fell back onto his seat when Castiel's free hand came out, punching the scribe in the face. "Ooh!"

"Well, just keeping digging," Cas told the Winchester on the other end, and Alex held back a snigger as she glanced over her shoulder to see Metatron holding his bleeding nose. She turned back at Castiel's troubled word. "Sam?"

"Lose reception?" Metatron's smug voice suddenly sounded right next to her ear, and Alex snapped her head back so far it almost collided with the glass window. "Or did he hang up on you?" He chuckled when Castiel didn't answer, his head tipping back in amusement. "He hung up on you, didn't he? Ow!" This time it was Alex's elbow that caught him on the corner of the mouth, and he fell back with a shout of pain, cuffed hands going up to cover his split lip.

"Thanks." Castiel tucked his cellphone back into his pocket, and his hands returned to the steering wheel. "Where's this safe house?" he demanded. "You said we were getting close."

"We are, we are." Metatron's voice was muffled as he spoke through his blood-filled mouth. "It's just up here to the left. Jeez!"

The rusted sign for their turn caught in the Continental's headlights, and Castiel guided the car off of the highway and down the abandoned road. Alex crossed her arms as she rested her head against the glass, eyes scanning the horizon for their destination. A dark shape sat against the skyline, rough and decrepit. "That it?" She pointed off down the road, and she leaned forward as Metatron once again pushed his way in between the two of them to peer through the windshield.

"That would be it," he confirmed. "Just pull up right up next to the door there." He threw open the car door the moment the engine died, and Alex hurried to follow, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the dark as she searched for the scribe, fearing he had tried to make a run.

Her pupils dilated wide to let in the watery moonlight, and the tension left her shoulders as she watched Metatron making a beeline towards the door. Castiel was moving after him, and Alex followed, pausing only to grab her weapon from the front seat before taking up the rear.

The door opened easily beneath Metatron's touch, and Alex slowly followed him in. The interior was even darker than the night outside, and the ex-angel fumbled around for a small flashlight in the pocket of her jacket. "Okay, so where's our grace?" she demanded.

"Well … here's the thing." Metatron's footsteps echoed loudly through the empty room, and Alex pursed her lips, already frustrated at whatever words were to come. "I don't exactly remember which safe house I put it in. I _think_ it was this one, but …"

"But you don't know." The beam of her flashlight swept over the dusty interior. "Okay, well, where would you have hidden it if this was the place?"

"Upstairs, probably. There's an office." Metatron jerked his head behind him, and Alex turned her flashlight down towards the hallway. "If your grace is here, it's up there — ouch!" He frowned over at Castiel as the seraph shoved him towards the door. "Watch it!"

Metatron limped off towards the stairway, still favoring his injured leg, and Alex followed, jaw squared to try and quell the nervous thudding in her chest. She could be minutes away from breaking her deal. From regaining her wings. The muscles in her shoulders quivered in excitement, and Alex immediately pushed the thought away as she bounded up the stairs. "Where is it?" She pushed past the scribe to stand in the middle of the room, her flashlight turning across the empty room.

"Huh." The scribe's noise of surprise had her turning back, light shining on his face, and Metatron squinted against the brightness. "This doesn't look familiar."

"It doesn't …" Alex trailed off, flashlight turning onto Castiel as the angel joined them in the room. "It's not here."

"It was — it might have been," Metatron corrected. "But it is definitely not here anymore." He turned back towards the stairs with a light-hearted shrug. "Well, onto the next one, I suppose. Come on." His voice faded slightly as he started off down the stairs. "The next stop is a state over. I call shotgun!"

"You're not getting shotgun." Alex ground out the words through gritted teeth, but her statement went unheard by both Metatron and Castiel, who followed the scribe back down the stairs with a weary shake of his head. Alex's head fell forward and, with a sigh, she followed.

...

 **"M** mm. Can you smell that?" Metatron's grating voice had Alex's head falling against the hard wooden table of their booth. "Now, that — _that_ — is the essence of humanity."

"It smells like pancakes." The words were muffled by the table top, pressed firmly against her face, and Alex felt Castiel's hand rub reassuring circles into her back. Comforted by the gesture, she straightened back up with a shake of her head. "Humanity … smells like blood and feces. Nothing like this."

"Ah!" Her words went unheard as their breakfast arrived, and Metatron's eyes lit up as a platter of waffles were slid in front of him, piled high with whipped cream and berries. "Wonderful."

"Thanks." Alex accepted her omelette with a nod towards their petite waitress, doing her best to ignore the rumble in her stomach at the sight of her food. Her muscles ached, displeased at the long night spent in the car, and she stifled a groan as she reached for her cutlery. They had driven for ten hours straight, stopping only to search two more of Metatron's so-called safe houses, which, like the first, had both turned up empty.

"Mmmm!" The scribe's groan of pleasure had her exchanging a disgusted look with her mate. "O-M … Me! Oh, food. Glorious food." He shoved a second bite into his mouth, humming in delight. "All the countless descriptions in so many books, but those are just words. Oh, the taste, the — the actual taste … I had no idea." His knife dug back into his breakfast, and Alex slowly did the same, carefully lifting a portion of her omelette to her lips. "Oh, and the process," Metatron continued, and Castiel shifted impatiently beside her, his hands folded on the table before him. "It goes in here … comes out here." Alex didn't need to look up to imagine the gestures that accompanied his words, and she rolled her eyes in disgust. "Sorcery."

"It's really not," she muttered around her mouthful, but the scribe didn't pause in his monologue to answer her.

"I mean, you used to be human," he added to Castiel. "Don't you miss all this?"

"No." The answer was short and taut with barely disguised frustration. "I don't miss digestion. I don't miss indigestion."

"No, no, no." Metatron gestured to Castiel with his fork. "Not that. I mean, don't you miss the feeling of all this? Like the taste of these waffles. The sound of a child's laughter. Look at us." His gesture widened to include Alex. "We're three angels who've not only touched the divine, but the mundane. The three of us a lot in common."

"Don't."

"What?" Metatron pouted at Alex's snap. "I thought we were having a moment. Can't we all be besties?"

"No." Castiel glanced around the restaurant before he lowered his voice. "Because you _killed_ my friend."

"Pfft." The scribe waved off the seraph's concern. "Dean is fine … mostly. Can't you get past that?" He pulled off another bite of his food, shoveling it into his mouth with loud, happy moan.

"Never." Castiel shifted again on the booth, clearing his throat as he quickly changed the subject before Metatron could empty his mouth to comment. "Now, we've hit three of your so-called safe houses, and all of them are empty. So either you've lost our grace, or you're stalling."

Metatron chuckled, his white teeth flashing in amusement. "Can you blame me? The minute I hand over your grace, I'm dead." He motioned between Castiel and Alex with a bite of waffle impaled on his fork. "I'm just trying to decide who I'd rather have do it."

"You've made your bed, Metatron, and nothing is going to get you out of it …" Castiel's impatience fell away as the scribe's face twisted in discomfort, and Alex tipped her head at the sound of his stomach gurgling. "What are you doing?"

"I think I need to use the little boys' room." The words came out slightly rushed, laced with pain, and Metatron held out his cuffed hands to the both of them. "Little help?"

Alex felt Castiel's eyes turn onto her, and she met his gaze with a shrug, shoving her fork down into the remainder of her food as the seraph reluctantly rose to his feet. The two disappeared towards the back of the restaurant, following the signs for the bathroom, and with a sigh, the ex-angel turned her attention onto finishing her meal; who knows when Castiel would allow them to stop and eat again.

Flannel flashed in the corner of her eye, and Alex lifted her head to watch one of the men who sat at the counter rise to his feet. Their eyes met momentarily, and the young hunter quickly looked away, unnerved by the coldness that sat within his gaze. Her skin tingled, a sure sign from years of exposure to know that this man wasn't human. She turned her face down onto her meal, toes curling nervously as she prayed the man wasn't a demon; if Crowley knew she was on the road with Castiel and Metatron, she had no doubt she would never get her grace back.

Her apprehension stalled her appetite, but the ex-angel forced herself to eat half of what remained on her plate before finally giving up and laying the fork down.

Her phone buzzed, and Alex jumped to answer it, her eyebrows lifting in surprise to see Sam's name upon the screen. "Hey, Sam," she greet, pressing the device up against her ear. "What's up?"

"Uh, we're on the road to meet up with Charlie. Looks like she found the Book of the Damned, but something's tracking her down. I'm just calling to check in. How's things going?" A distant voice could be heard beneath Sam's words, and Sam quickly added, "Dean says hi, by the way."

"Tell him hi back." Alex leaned back in the booth, choosing her words carefully with the knowledge that Dean was in the car too. "Uh, everything's fine. We're moving east, but there hasn't been much of anything yet. I'll keep you updated, though."

"Sounds good. Say, uh, did you know — apparently Rowena is Crowley's mother."

"Oh yeah, I knew that." Alex picked up her fork to slide around pieces of her omelette as she spoke. " How'd you guys find out? Why were you talking with Crowley?"

"When we were at the, uh, the _movie_ , Dean ran into Rowena. Apparently she tried to kill him because we're a, um … a 'good influence' on Crowley." Sam paused only mometarily before adding, "Crowley met up with Dean afterwards and dropped it on him."

"Son of a …" Alex's forked scraped against her plate, and she let it fall back onto the table. "So now Crowley's letting her wander off on her own? I told him …" She trailed off with a shake of her head and a sigh. "But Dean's okay, right?"

"Dean's fine," Sam promised. "Hey, after you, you know, get where you're going, we could definitely use your help over here."

"Sure thing. I'll keep you updated." Alex felt her phone buzz against her ear, and she pulled it away long enough to catch a glimpse of a new text from Castiel. "Listen, I need to get going. You two stay safe."

Sam echoed her farewell and hung up, and Alex lowered her phone to read the new message from her mate. _I felt an angel nearby. We're leaving out the back. Follow us._

Alex dug a handful of cash out of her pocket and dropped it on the table, not bothering to count it out as she rose to her feet and hurried towards the back of the restaurant. She could see the door closing, a flash of tan signaling the presence of Castiel, and her feet carried her out into the back alley. The Lincoln Continental was parked around the corner, and she lengthened her stride to walk at her mate's side. "Sorry about the mess," she heard Metatron say. "Guess I'm lactose intolerant."

"Let's never speak of it again …" Castiel trailed off as he stopped, his face going blank with surprise.

A man was leaning up against the side of the golden car, and Alex immediately ducked behind her mate as she recognized the stranger as the man from the restaurant. "Demon?" she hissed, and her heart skipped a beat as she waited for the man's eyes to flash black.

"Well, well. Metatron, Alex, and Castiel. This really must be my lucky day." The man stepped away from the car as he reached into his jacket, and Alex's shoulders dropped slightly in relief at the sight of a silver angel blade. "Three birds, one blade."

The weapon glinted in the light, and Castiel dropped his hold on Metatron to draw his own sword defensively. "Who are you?" he demanded, and Alex's hand found her weapon, twisting it in her hands as she warily eyed the stranger.

"Just a cupid," the man promised. "Just an angry, _angry_ cupid."

Castiel shifted backwards as the cupid approached, and Alex sidestepped with a frown to find he was backing up to shield her. "I understand you're upset," he began, but the man cut him off with a scoff.

"You corrupted heaven," he spat. "It's never going to be the same!" His weapon flashed through the air, and Alex leapt out of the way as Castiel backpedaled to fend off the attack. Metatron threw himself to the ground, his hands covering his head, and Alex paused only long enough to make sure that the scribe was not planning on running before she jumped back into the fray.

The cupid spun away from her blow, and Alex barely had time to duck as the angel blade flashed across the space her neck had occupied mere moments before. She used her momentum to throw herself into the cupid's chest in an attempt to knock him down, but the angel caught her by the collar of her jacket. The ground disappeared from beneath her feet as Alex was flung through the air, and she grunted as she hit the hood of the Lincoln Continental, the impact knocking the air out of her lungs.

Her head spun, the ringing in her ears almost drowning out the thud of Castiel hitting the ground, and the ex-angel forced her body to roll off of the car as white light lit up the alleyway. "Cas?" She pushed herself to her feet, eyes sweeping the scene, and she felt relief pulse through her veins as her mate shoved the corpse of the cupid to the ground. Metatron stood above them, a bloodied angel blade in his hands, and Alex approached cautiously as the scribe stared down at the seraph. Metatron hesitated only momentarily before he turned the weapon around, the hilt pointed towards Castiel. "I owed you that one, anyways," he said as Castiel took hold of the blade.

"This changes nothing." The seraph growled out the words as he pushed himself to his feet, and Alex lifted her chin as he crossed the alleyway towards her.

"You're welcome," she heard Metatron call from behind them, and Castiel paused at her side to tuck his weapon back into his coat.

"Are you okay?" The seraph's words were barely audible, and Alex gave a small nod. Satisfied, Castiel pulled open the car door, and Alex bent down to pick up her weapon before following her mate. She paused beside the passenger side door to watch Metatron slowly pick his way past the body. "Hurry up," she heard Castiel snap, but the scribe merely rolled his eyes.

"I just saved your life," Metatron reminded. "And what do I get — not even a thank you?"

"You said the next safe house was nearby." Castiel pulled open the door for the scribe, pushing down on his head to shove Metatron into the back seat unceremoniously. "How far away is it?"

"It's two towns over. The old local library." Metatron sunk into the leather seats, the playful tone leaving his voice. "That's our next stop." His handcuffs clinked as he dropped his hands into his lap, and Alex exchanged an exasperated look with Castiel as she climbed in after the scribe.

"Why did you think that cupid was a demon?" The engine started as Castiel spoke, and Alex looked over at him in surprise.

"What?" she asked before she could stop herself, and she shook her head before Castiel could repeat the question. "I — I can't exactly tell angel from demon as a human. A-And I guess I'm scared that Crowley's going to catch on before we find our grace."

She glanced over her shoulder, and Metatron's head recoiled in faux-shock. "Well don't look at me," he insisted. "I don't want that arrogant prick getting the drop on us anymore than you two."

"Good." Alex slouched down against her seat, arms folded across her chest as she scowled. "Anyways, it sounds like Crowley's preoccupied with the witch Rowena, so hopefully he won't even be aware of where I am." The Continental shifted into gear, and the car lurched forward towards the street.

...

 **Blaine, Missouri**

 **C** astiel didn't speak the entire drive, and Alex spent the time staring out the window, her fingers dancing nervously along the hem of her jacket. Even Metatron was quiet, having given up on making conversation ten minutes ago. Now, he only spoke up to give the seraph directions or point out some interesting slogan he saw on a passing billboard. "Ah!" His sudden noise had Alex looking up in time to see the scribe pointing off towards an exit ramp. "There. The library is going to be up there and to the left."

Castiel obediently guided the car off of the highway, and Alex leaned forward as she searched for the building that the scribe spoke up. The faded white sign for the Petersburg Library caught her eye, but before she could speak up, Castiel turned into the parking lot. "Okay, get out." He turned off the engine and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Alex followed, pausing only long enough for the seraph to yank Metatron onto the cracked pavement before she led the way towards the door.

It was locked, and she waited impatiently for Castiel to unlock it with her grace before she pushed her way inside. "Oh, come on." At the sound of his muttered words, Alex turned to fall in step beside her mate. "You expect me to believe that you hid my grace in a library?"

"Nobody goes to libraries anymore," Metatron promised, taking the lead. "It's the safest place in the world."

Alex flicked on the lights, and the large, cluttered room came into view. Books were everywhere, every shelf packed tight. "I can feel our grace." Castiel's breath stirred her hair, and she turned her head to look into his eyes, searching for any sign of deception. "It's here," he promised, raising his voice for Metatron to hear, "but you've hidden it somehow. Where is it?"

"Honesty? I have no idea." Metatron jumped down the half staircase, his handcuffs clinking slightly, and he let out a shout of surprise when Castiel followed, roughly shoving the scribe down into an empty chair and pinning him there by the shoulder. "Aah!"

His face contorted in pain as Castiel dug his fingers into the scribe's bandaged bullet wound, easing up slightly as his lips turned up in a snarl. "Where is it?" he demanded, and Metatron shrieked again as his words were emphasized by a sharp squeeze.

"Gah! I don't know, I swear!" Metatron flinched away from Castiel's anger, and Alex moved to stand at her mate's side, hands shoved into her pockets as she surveyed Metatron's face; if the pain laced through his features was an indicator of anything, the words he was saying were genuine. "I had another angel hide it, even from me —!" He shouted again as Castiel's finger dug deeper into the bandage, fresh blood welling up beneath his nails. "You know, in case someone tries to _torture_ the information out of me!" he finished with a snarl. "Case in point!"

Castiel pulled away, leaving the scribe seething in his seat. "Where is my grace?" he repeated, and Alex reached up to put a calming hand upon his shoulder.

"I told the angel to hide some clues in some of my favorite books." Metatron ground his teeth as he held up his hands in a gesture of pleading innocence. "Mother, may I?" When Castiel merely scowled, Metatron pushed himself to his feet and limped off towards the shelves. Castiel and Alex followed, watching warily as he pulled a dark blue book from its home.

He reached to open the front cover, but then Castiel was there, yanking the book out of his hands. A yellowed note sat tucked in among the first few pages, and the seraph let the book fall to the ground as he unfolded it. " 'What is the maddest thing a man can do?' " he read with a frown. "It's a riddle? What — what's the answer?"

"Beats me." Metatron shrugged nonchalantly. "I've only been a man for a day. Um, the — the answer to the riddle will lead to another book," he explained when a growl rumbled in Castiel's throat. "And inside that book, you'll find your grace. We're gonna work this out together, okay? Teamwork."

His words were met with a scowl from Castiel, but the seraph didn't argue. Instead, he merely rolled his eyes and moved off down another aisle. Alex followed, breaking away a second later to search her own set of books. She trailed her fingers down the spines, head tipped slightly as she read the titles. "What was the riddle again?" she asked, and her voice echoed through the empty room.

" 'What is the maddest thing a man can do?' " Castiel's voice came from across from her, and she paused to peer through the books at her mate. There was a light in his eyes, pure hope at finding their grace, and Alex paused to grin at the sight.

"Thanks." Alex tucked a strand of blonde hair back behind her ear as she spoke. "Are you — are you sure it's our grace you're feeling?" she pressed after a moment's pause, lowering her voice as not to give Metatron the pleasure of hearing. "I don't feel anything."

"I'm sure." Castiel's promise was just as soft. "Yours and mine. I would never forget how that feels. Perhaps … perhaps because you only have a soul, you can't feel it like I can."

His blue eyes searched her face, waiting to see if she agreed, and Alex gave a small nod. "Maybe," she conceded. "Well, keep looking then."

"You know, I can hear every word you're saying, and let me say, you two are absolutely adorable." Metatron's voice came from across the room, and Alex's smile faded into a tight-lipped frown as she turned her attention back to the books. "You know, the three of us really do make a good team," he continued. "Kind of like a buddy comedy, without the comedy."

"Or the buddies," Castiel added, and Alex heard Metatron draw in a breath of mock hurt.

"Oh now, come on," he chided. "Back at the diner, that was some pretty awesome dynamic-duo action."

Alex dragged her fingers down the spine of a particularly thick book, pausing to pull it off the shelf and check the first few pages for another riddle. There was nothing, and she tucked the book back into place with a huff. "What we did back there was unfortunate," she heard Castiel say. "No more of our brothers or sisters should die."

"Brothers and sisters?" Metatron actually scoffed, and Alex tilted her head in surprise. "Listen to you. Still spitting out the company line like anyone cares. Like we're actually a _family_? When what we really are — we're a bunch of glowing lights filled with self-loathing and delusions of grandeur."

"You shut up!"

"No!" Metatron met Castiel's anger. "If I'm gonna die, I want answers. Like, who are you now? Like, you're obviously not an angel of the Lord. And what about all this walking the earth like Caine from 'Kung Fu' crap?" His voice rose even more, and Alex circled around the aisle to see the two angels staring at each other through the shelves "Cleaning up heaven's messes. How many more rogue angels are there out there? And what are you gonna do once you're done with that? Go back to heaven?" Metatron scoffed. "Please. The angel formerly known as Hannah has restored order up top. Smoothest it's run since God cut the ribbon on the pearly gates, and they're sure as hell not going to let _her_ up there." Alex watched as he gestured to her through the shelves. "So tell me, Castiel, truly, what is your mission now?"

Alex took a step closer when she saw Castiel's shoulders tense, fearful that the seraph was going to strike a blow. However, all he said was, "You shut up and keep looking," and then he turned on his heels and stalked away.

Metatron chuckled, and Alex returned to her aisle with a shake of her head. "Well …" she heard the scribe continue, and she did her best to block out the sound of his voice, her attention fully on the books at hand, "I cannot say I didn't try."

Light flashed in front of her eyes, and Alex gasped as a weight pressed down on her shoulders, forcing her to the ground. Her lungs screamed in pain, and panic blinded her at the sudden invisible force. Through the ringing in her ears, she barely heard Castiel hit the ground on the other side of the bookshelves, grunting in agony.

Footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor, and Alex caught sight of Metatron's shoes through the stack of books. "Poor Castiel." The scribe clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he stared down at the seraph. "Swam so far just to drown in shallow waters. Isn't it ironic? Don't you think?" The footsteps retreated slightly, and Alex looked up to see Metatron watching her, a triumphant smile upon his round face. "Stay there and be good," he taunted, and Alex pushed herself up onto her knees before the weight of the spell forced her back down.

Satisfied, Metatron disappeared from sight, and Alex swept some of the books off of their shelves so she could better see her mate. "Cas." She hissed his name, and Castiel turned his head to meet her gaze. "You okay?"

Castiel nodded, his mouth opening, but his words were drowned out by Metatron's. "Alright. First thing's first … find what I really came here for." The sound of rustling paper came from across the room. " 'What two things do you need to succeed in life?' " he read before he chuckled. "Ignorance and confidence."

"They're quotes." Castiel pulled the first riddle out of his pocket, grimacing at the pain the movement cause him, and Metatron laughed..

"So, uh … did you and Samateur hour really thing I wouldn't have a back-up plan?" Alex could see Metatron's feet cross past her vision as he made his way down the aisle. He stopped near the end, and Alex heard him pull a book off the shelf. "Ah. Hello, demon tablet."

"Shit." Alex watched as Castiel pulled himself away from the scribe, his jaw clenched at the strain, and the ex-angel once again tried to stand, pushing her feet underneath her and forcing herself up. She steadied herself on the bookshelves, doing her best to ignore how her legs quivered under the strain. "Crowley, where are you? Metatron has the demon tablet."

"Who now has the what now?" The thick accent of Crowley came from behind her, and Alex tried to turn. The pressure from the spell sent her to the ground, and she grunted as her chest collided with the hardwood floors. "Good to see you too, kitten."

"Is that _Crowley_?" Metatron's voice sounded from across the room, a mixture of joy and disbelief. "Crowley the King of Hell."

" _That's_ Metatron?" The demon's eyebrows cocked in surprise. "That's the Scribe of God. I was expecting something more … holy."

"He's human. Cas took his grace. Just — just kill him or something!" Alex once again pushed herself to her feet with a snarl, but with a wave of his hand, Crowley sent her crashing back to the ground.

"What am I, your personal revenge service?" Alex heard footsteps hurrying away, running towards the front door, but Crowley's attention remained fully focused on her. "You work for me, not the other way around!"

"No." Grace trickled deep within her gut, and Alex closed her eyes, welcoming the feeling. "You're wrong." Her eyes snapped open wide, and she pushed herself to her feet as the floodgates within her opened. "I don't work for you."

The bookcases exploded, sending books and loose pages flying around the room at deadly speeds, and Alex lost sight of the demon as white light enveloped the room. Her grace rushed through her veins, a comforting, powerful warmth that spread outwards and exploded from her shoulders, twisting and molding into a solid, holy weight.

The papers settled around her, and she turned to look past the fallen shelves, following the thread of grace to her mate. Castiel's eyes glowed blue, and his wings were outstretched, tattered and broken.

Their worn state barely registered as Alex turned away, her own wings rising as she searched for the King of Hell. "Crowley!" She bellowed the name, eyes scanning the library for the stocky demon.

"Looks like I'm a little late to the party, hmm?" Crowley emerged from behind one of the few upright shelves, his dark eyes taking in the mess at his feet. "You didn't tell me you were looking to get your grace back."

"You never asked." Her grace swelled up, her eyes glowing in the dim room, and she felt her wings flare, brushing the low ceilings as she cast their shadows onto the back wall. "And I'm not human any longer."

"You think this makes a difference?" Crowley spat the words, shying away from the bright, holy light, and Alex let the last of her grace inside, sinking into her bones. She felt her soul melt away at the touch, consumed by the angelic force. The inky letters of her deal rose to her skin, glowing a brilliant blue, and Alex's grin turned to a frown as she looked down at her arms. She could feel her grace straining at the contract, but no matter how hard she pushed, it refused to give.

"Did you really think I would just let you get away when you found your grace?" Crowley's voice grew scathing, and Alex let out a shriek of pain as the lettering faded to a smoldering black. "Read it on your skin, sweetheart. You're mine even if I had to drag you down to hell and cut your grace out myself!"

The deal burrowed into her grace, and Alex threw her head back in a painful howl as it sunk its icy fangs into her chest.

Her cry was nearly drowned out by Castiel's snarl, and then the seraph was there, holding her up as her legs threatened to buckle underneath the pain. "You might be good, but I'm Crowley," he taunted. "I'll see you in hell, darling."

The demon disappeared, and Alex pushed herself back to her feet. "Fuck!" The curse left her lips, echoing through the empty room, and she spun around to face Castiel, her eyes blazing. The seraph's shoulders were fallen, and Alex's wings flared up furiously. "You should be _pissed_!" she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. "Don't give up!"

"He's won." Castiel's eyes slid past her to rest on the space where Crowley had once stood. "If regaining our grace — dissolving your very _soul_ — couldn't break it …" He shook his head, his eyes dull with defeat. "I don't know what else to do."

"We go back to the bunker." Alex's wings fell back to her side, and her anger faded into cold determination. "Sam and Dean are with Charlie. They've found the Book of the Damned. If there's a spell in there to cure the Mark of Cain, maybe — maybe there's some way to break this curse of mine, too." Two steps carried her to him, her hands cupping his cheeks. She felt her grace thrum at the contact, and she leaned up, pressing her lips to his as reassuringly as she could. "I still have twelve months left. Don't give up yet."

...

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **T** he quiet bunker air hummed gently as Alex toyed with her grace, sending it out to feel the farthest reaches of the halls before snapping back in. Her phone lay on the table, screen opened to Sam's latest message, a promise of a quick arrival. There was an inquiry about her grace, but Alex left it unanswered; she would be able to tell Sam in person soon enough.

She could feel Castiel behind her, his attention on the bookshelf, and she closed her eyes, drawing on the small flickering in the back of her mind, allowing her grace to see what he saw. She saw the books, followed by a view of the back of her head as Castiel turned, humming in surprise. "Hey." Alex tipped her head back in her chair, staring up the seraph with a small smile. "Anything interesting?"

"I think I've had enough of books for the time being." Castiel crossed the room to stand at her side, and Alex pushed herself to her feet, turning so she could sit on the table and place her feet up upon the chair.

Her eyes fell onto Castiel's wings, and the angel couldn't help the small frown that darkened her face. When she had been living on stolen grace, she neither saw wings not had a pair of her own; somehow, what she had before seemed almost preferable to this. The seraph's wings were nothing more than ragged, unkempt feathers, the faintest hints of exposed bone visible through the tattered mess.

Alex knew her wings looked no better, and she drew one in to fruitlessly preen one of the large pinions. Large chunks of the vane were missing, leaving only a barb or two clinging for life. Small covert feathers still covered the patchwork of remaining skin, and the angel grimaced, tugging angrily at stripped rachis of a secondary flight feather. "You shouldn't play with them," Castiel warned, his voice soft yet chastising. "They'll heal faster if you leave them alone."

"They _will_ grow back, won't they?" Alex's eyebrows turned up worriedly, and she held out her hands, beckoning her mate closer. "Then I'll be able to fly again." The darkening Castiel's eyes had her shoulders falling, and she drew her wings back out of her sight with a sigh.

The door opened, and Alex looked up to watch Sam step through the door, his backpack slung over his shoulder. "Hey," he called, and his eyes lit up at the sight of the two of them. "Did you guys find your grace?" His eyes darted upwards as Alex had the lights flicker, and he broke out into a grin. "Congrats. And — and your deal?"

Alex's smile faded as Sam came to stop in front of her, and the Winchester's own grin fell away. "Crowley … planned on us finding it," she admitted, and her arms dropped to her lap. "It wouldn't break."

"How —" Sam's eyes narrowed in confusion, and he looked between the two angels. "How's that possible? You don't have a soul … right?"

Castiel's lips pursed, and Alex's eyes fell onto her feet. "I don't," she reluctantly agreed. "But he … he says he's planning on having his hounds drag me to hell where he'll take my grace. Without it I'll be human again." Her gaze flickered back up to Sam. "What about the Book of the Damned? Did you find it? Is there something that could help me?"

Sam placed a hand on her shoulder, and Alex leaned into the warm, reassuring touch. "We don't know," he admitted. "We didn't find a way to translate it. It's written in some obscure Sumerian dialect, but it's also in code, none that I've ever seen. But Alex …" His hand fell away, and the angel felt her heart plummet. "We had to destroy the book. The men who were following Charlie found us. We didn't have a chance." The hand returned, squeezing gently, but when Alex shrugged it off, he turned his eyes onto Cas. "What about Metatron?" he asked. "Is he back in heaven?"

"He escaped with the demon tablet." Castiel's voice was low in defeat. "I was foolish, selfish. I should've just killed him." The seraph dropped down into a chair with a small shake of his head. "Who knows what he'll do with that tablet."

Sam's let out a low, slow breath through his nose. "Well, you know what, Cas?" he finally said. "You got your grace back. _You're_ back. You did the right thing."

"It didn't save Alex." Castiel placed his elbows on his table, his head falling into his hands. "You … you did the right thing, too," he reluctantly admitted. "That book needed to be destroyed." He lifted his eyes, and determination crept into the edges of his voice. "We will find another way, Sam. For both Alex and Dean."

"We're back, bitches!" The bunker door flew open, and Alex jumped to her feet, wings flaring up in surprise at the sudden noise. Charlie jumped down the metal stairs, two grocery bags in her arms. Chair legs squeaked against the floor as Castiel rose to his feet, and Alex followed him down into the war room to greet the new arrivals. Charlie's eyes lit up, and a smile grew across her face as she took in the angel at Alex's side. "Whoa! Is that who I think it is?"

"Charlie, Cas." Sam came to stop behind Alex, motioning between the two. "Cas, Charlie."

Charlie yanked Castiel into a quick hug before pulling back to look the seraph up and down. "I thought you'd be shorter," she finally admitted, dropping the bags she was carrying down onto the table.

Sam was there to pick them up, balancing them carefully as he jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. "I'm gonna get these to the fridge," he announced, and Alex stepped back to let him through.

Charlie gave no notice that she heard, her attention fully on the two angels in front of her. "Heard the two of you might have gotten your mojo back," she began cheerfully.

"Yes," Castiel agreed, "my — our grace, it's been restored."

Charlie looked down at Alex, and the blonde nodded in agreement, smiling to accompany her mate's words. "It's true," she agreed. "We're back, wings and all."

Charlie grinned. "So — so can't you just … you know … cure Dean?"

Her smile fell away when Castiel dropped his gaze. "It's not exactly that simple," Alex began. "The Mark — it's more than just a scrape or a broken bone."

"Oh." Charlie's shoulders fell in disappointment. "Never is, is it?" The sadness lasted only a moment before the woman perked back up. "Do you think you could do anything about my carpal tunnel?" Her eyes crossed slightly as she followed Castiel's hand up to where it came to rest on her forehead, and Alex felt their grace rush through Charlie, healing every injury it encountered. He pulled away a moment later, and the woman gave a small frown. "Is that it?"

"Your carpal tunnel and your bullet wound are now healed," Castiel promised, and he motioned down to the woman's hand. "You may want to continue wearing your brace at night, though."

Charlie's face glowed, blue eyes sparkling in amazement as she stared up at the seraph. "Did we just become best friends?" she asked, and even Castiel managed to smile at her joy. The smile quickly faded at the sound of the bunker door opening, and Alex followed his gaze upwards to see Dean entering, three large pizza boxes balanced in his hands.

"Hey, look who decided to show," the Winchester called, and he flicked his head upwards in a nod to both of the angels. "So? You two back at one hundred percent? How'd that happen?"

Sam stepped back into the war room, and Castiel's head turned momentarily onto the Winchester before he constructed his answer. "Uh, it was Hannah," he lied. "She managed to get the location of the remainder of my grace out of Metatron."

"Awesome." Dean's grin widened, and he dropped the pizza onto the table as he glanced over at his brother. "I told you we were due for a win," he told Sam before clapping Castiel on the shoulder. "Good to have you back, pal."

"I'm glad to be back," Castiel agreed quietly.

Alex grunted in surprise as Dean pulled her into a tight side-hug. "Same to you," the Winchester added down to her. "Let me tell you, you missed a hell of a road trip. Glad to see you're up and out of that deal, huh?"

Alex looked up at his grin, and she forced a similar smile. "I'll tell you about it later," she promised, intent on not marring the hunter's rare and jovial mood. "I think that pizza's calling my name, though." She curled around to her customary chair, waving her mate over to join her. "I might be an angel, but I'm gonna eat as much as I can."

Her distraction worked, and Dean dropped into his seat, hands clapping together as he pulled the pizzas close. "I'll second that." He immediately pushed himself back to his feet. "Beer. I'll get the beer."

"And plates!" Alex yelled after him as he hurried off towards the kitchen.

"When are you gonna tell him?" Sam sat down in the chair beside her, and Alex leaned back in her seat as she glanced in his direction. "About … your deal."

"I'll tell him in the morning." Alex tucked her hands behind her head as she leaned back further in her chair. "He told you we were due for a win, you know? I want to give him that." She fell silent as Dean returned, a six-pack tucked under one arm, a stack of paper plates in the other. She didn't wait for him to sit down before she pulled open one of the pizza boxes, digging in and pulling free a slice for herself. "For now, how about we celebrate, huh?" She accepted a beer from Dean, her grace cracking off the top as she held it up. "To our win."


	18. Werther Project

**Ahhh I completely forgot to post a chapter on Tuesday! I'm so sorry, but in my defense, it was finals week ... (that's a legitimate excuse, right?)**

* * *

 **...**

 **June 13th, 2015  
Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** rap on her door stirred Alex from her thoughts, and the angel let her laptop slide off of her lap as she straightened up on her bed. "Hello?" Her grace stretched out to unlock the door, turning the lights on at the same time, and the iridescent bulbs flickered to life moments before the heavy wooden door swung open.

"Hey." Sam stepped inside, his eyes sweeping the room with a small frown. "Have you seen either Cas or Dean?"

"Uh, Dean's still blacked out in his room, and Cas is who-knows-where." Alex shrugged at her nondescript explanation. "He's not exactly been the most expressive recently. I mean, he kind of just moped for a day or two, and now …" She reached over to grab a balled up scrap of paper from her nightstand and tossed it in Sam's direction, her voice growing sour. "Who the hell leaves a note to tell me he's leaving to find a way to break my deal?"

Sam bent down to scoop the note off of the ground, and the paper crinkled as he unfolded it. There was a moment of silence as he read the scrawled words before he folded it up and set it on her dresser. "Did he say where he was going?" Sam closed the door behind him, and Alex shook her head, throwing her legs over the side of the bed so she could sit up; usually, such complaints would elicit some form of sympathy, but Sam seemed distracted. She squinted curiously, her silence prompting him to continue. "Hey, so you remember that I burned the Book of the Damned, right? Well … I didn't."

"You what?" His words had Alex on her feet, and her broken wings stretched out in surprise.

"I … didn't burn it." Sam reached up to rub the back of his neck, but his voice lost none of its conviction. "I couldn't bring myself to do it, not if there's any hope of saving you and Dean. I have the Book hidden in my room in a warded box so the Styne clan can't track it."

"That's the creepy family who were hunting you and Charlie, right?" Alex didn't wait for Sam to nod before she frowned. "And I'm guessing Dean doesn't know about this."

"What? No, of course not." Sam's eyes narrowed as if confused by her question. "Dean's given up. Look at how he reacted when you told him you couldn't break your deal. Do you really think he's stable enough for this?"

Alex's frown deepened, her eyes flickering across his face as she searched for any sign of doubt. "No," she reluctantly admitted, and her grace stretched out to feel for Dean, still drunkenly unconscious in his bed. "I-I don't like it, but you're probably right." She drew her grace back inside. "Okay, so how are we going to use this Book? Because the moment we take that out of the box …"

"Yeah, tell me about it." Sam's face darkened as he thought, but Alex could see a hesitant decision had already be formed. She leaned up against her bed, waiting patiently for the Winchester to finish. It took him a minute of silence, but eventually he heaved a sigh. "Actually, I have an idea. You're not going to like it," he warned, "but Rowena —"

"No."

"She's the most powerful witch we know, and she's the only one who might give us a chance!" Sam's voice rose in momentary frustration that fell away when Alex squared her jaw. "We owe it to Dean to at least give it a shot," he begged. "Please, just trust me."

"I trust you, Sam. The problem is that I don't trust _her_." Alex crossed her arms as she toed at a discarded shirt on her floor, nudging it closer to the dresser with a scowl. "She tried to kill Dean just last week. What makes you think she'll want anything to do with us? How — how are we even going to get a hold of her?"

"I was hoping you could help."

" _No_." One step took Alex toe-to-toe with Sam, and she lifted her broken and tattered wings in an attempt to match his height. "I am _not_ asking Crowley to get me in touch with his mother! That's — that's not okay on so many levels."

"At least try, okay?" Sam pleaded. "The longer we wait, the worse Dean is going to get, and who knows how close he is to breaking."

Alex ground her teeth, and her grace flipped angrily within her at her inability to think up any excuse to his heartfelt plea. "Fine," she snapped, her voice harsher than she intended. "I'll give him a call and see what I can do. But I'm not going to beg him, okay?"

"Okay." Relief flared in Sam's eyes, and he jumped to agree. "Okay. Thank you."

"Yeah. Now get out of my room, huh?" Alex shooed him out with a half-angry wave of her hands, and she dropped back down onto her bed as Samc closed the door behind him. She paused, stretching out her grace to make sure he wasn't lingering nearby before she reluctantly reached for her phone to dial Crowley's number.

The line only rang once before it clicked. "Hello, little mouse. Come back to grovel some?" Crowley's grating voice had Alex's wings flicking furiously, but she forced her anger down with a scowl.

"I suppose you'd like that, wouldn't you?" The angel did her best to keep her voice light, hoping the demon couldn't hear the frustration hardening the edges. "I actually need to ask a favor. Is Rowena still with you?"

"Rowena?" Crowley's voice lifted in surprise. "I kicked that old hag out days ago. What do you want with her?"

"Sam may have found a way to remove the Mark, but we need a witch," Alex explained temperately. "What's the best way to get a hold of her? Does — does she have like a phone or something?"

Skeptical silence followed her words, and Alex shifted on her bed as she waited for a reply. "I still have some of my men keeping an eye on her," Crowley finally said. "I'll have them report anything they've found."

"Thanks." Alex didn't wait for a farewell before she hung up, and she shoved her phone into her pocket with a small shake of her head. "Son of a …" She crossed the room and stepped out into the hall, grace flicking out to make sure that Dean was still unconscious in his room before she made her way after Sam.

The Winchester was seated in the library, his hands pressed up against the side of his head as he stared down at the book in front of him. He only looked up when Alex dropped down in the chair at his side, his hazel eyes brightening in hope. "Well? What did he say?"

"He said he kicked Rowena out. Luckily for us, he's still got some of his men out there keeping tabs on her whereabouts, so he'll call me if he finds a way for us to get in contact." The angel scowled, swinging the chair around so she could straddle it, arms folded across the back. "I think he shares my hesitation about dealing with her," she added, her eyes hardening. "She's a snake, Sam. Sly, manipulative — not to mention a fucking witch!"

"I know." Sam reached out to put a hand on her slim forearm, and Alex fell silent with a huff. "I know." His warm, calloused fingers squeezed gently, and the angel's head fell to her chest. "That's why I want you to work with me, okay? If anything goes wrong — _anything_ — I need you there."

"Of course you do." Alex's wings drooped, the broken vanes brushing against the hardwood floor. "You need me, Dean needs me — Cas is halfway off the deep end with this deal of mine. My wings are broken. I can't fly. I can't be there for everyone —"

She cut off sharply when the hand on her arm tightened, and her eyes flickered up onto Sam's face. "I understand," he promised. "If it's too much, I can handle this on my own."

Alex pushed his hand off of her arm, her fingers lingering on his wrist a moment longer. "Don't be stupid. Of course I'll help you; just give me five minutes to complain about it, okay?"

"Complain 'bout what?" The sound of Dean's voice had Alex turning around, surprised to find the Winchester standing in the doorway. His hair was tousled, his shirt wrinkled and clearly slept in, and the angel cocked an eyebrow at the sight.

"What isn't there to complain about?" she countered lightly. "We live in a fucking horror movie." Her eyes dropped onto Dean's forearm, hidden by a half-rolled sleeve. "Hey, uh, I wanted to remind you that my promise about that still stands." She motioned towards the Mark, and Dean's free hand went up to cover the curse. "I might be a full angel again, but once that thing's off, we're still getting drunk, no strings attached."

Dean grunted, and Alex turned her chair slightly so she could face him more. "Sure thing. Think you can do anything about this hangover in the meantime?"

"Sorry, hotshot. Serves you for drinking on a weeknight." Alex waved off the obscene gesture Dean sent her way as he crossed through the library on his way to the kitchen, and her head fell back onto her folded arms as Sam return to his research. She felt her phone buzz within her pocket, and she drew it out, flicking her grace to make sure Dean was still out of sight. "Crowley," she announced, dropping her phone on the table. "We've got a number."

...

 **Kansas City, Missouri**

 **A** lex followed Sam out of the Marquis, catching the keys tossed her way and shoving them deep into the pockets of her jeans. "Want me to take the lead?" she asked as Sam pulled the warded lead box out of the trunk. "I've tangled with this witch before."

"No, no, don't worry about it." Sam waved her help off with a shake of his head. "Let me do the talking, alright?"

"Whatever you say, Winchester." Alex shoved her hands deep inside of her jacket as she fell in step behind Sam, following him across the parking lot and in through the doors of the small, brightly lit cafe. She drew her ragged wings in tight as she scanned the tables, grey eyes searching for the familiar head of red hair.

She elbowed Sam when she found the witch, seated at a table near the windows, and a jerk in her head in Rowena's direction had Sam weaving his way between the tables. "Rowena?" He waited for the witch to nod before he took a seat across from her, the warded box resting on the table in front of him. "Thanks for meeting up with me."

"You didn't tell me _she_ was coming with." The thick Scottish accent was filled with distrust and disdain, and Alex huffed as she pulled up a third chair to the table so she could sit at Sam's side. Rowena's eyes glittered with momentary displeasure, but it faded away as she turned her attention back onto Sam. "Well? You said you had a proposition."

"I need the Mark of Cain off of my brother," Sam began. "Something tells me you can crack this book and find that cure. The only question is … will you help me?"

He rested his hands on the box, his long fingers spreading from edge to edge, and he hesitantly undid the latch and lifted the lid, showing off the Book inside. The front page was a dark leather, clearly homemade and unevenly cut, and Alex felt her stomach twist at the sight of the pages sticking out from beneath. She recognized the material of the pages from previous experience; that was human skin.

The witch's blue eyes gleamed at the sight. "Shall we discuss terms?" Rowena put her elbows on the table as she leaned forward. "There's only one thing you could possibly do for me that I can't, at least not presently, do for myself. Kill my son. He already has his stinking minions on high alert." Anger darkened her face, quickly quelled, and within a moment, Rowena had regained her calm composure. "And if you're wondering how a mother can get to the point of wanting her own son —"

"No, I'm really not." Sam quickly cut her off with a hurried shake of his head. "I'll do it. I'll kill Crowley."

Rowena clicked her tongue. "No. I want her to do it." She pointed towards Alex, and the angel's shoulders rolled back in anger.

Her wings flared out, but she did her best to keep her voice under control. "I can't kill him," she retorted. "Trust me, I'd love to, but he … he owns me, and I can't hurt him."

"I can kill Crowley," Sam repeated insistently. "But first things first — can you read the book?"

"Of course I can," Rowena promised, and Alex frowned at the sickly sweet tone of her voice, almost as strong as her perfume. "I'm likely the only witch alive who can understand such old, dark magic. Just … not in its present form."

Sam's lips twisted into a frown, and he quickly snapped the lead box shut, hiding the Book of the Damned from sight. "Drink's on me," he told her, nodding towards her cup, and chair legs scraped against the floor as he rose to his feet.

Alex did the same, rising up with a silent, practiced ease, but Rowena's dry voice had her pausing. "Hey, you're going anywhere, pal. I'm your mortal enemy." She paused, and Alex frowned when Sam reluctantly sat back down. "I've tried to kill you and your brother — your brother as recently as last week. You wouldn't have come to me if I wasn't your last resort." She looked up at Alex, and the angel sunk back into her chair as a long, frustrated breath left her nose. "You're desperate. You can stop pretending that you're not."

Alex heard Sam's phone vibrate, and the Winchester drew his attention away from the witch to look down at his message. "So rude," Rowena chided, but Sam paid her no attention, turning his phone so Alex could see the text from Dean. _Hitting a nest in Tulsa,_ it read. _Join if you want._

Alex frowned at the message, but Rowena went on as if nothing had occurred. "Now, I can't read the book in its present form," she explained, "but there is someone who could. Nadya. Grand Coven witch."

"Where do I find her?"

"You don't. She's dead." Rowena let out a small, sly smile at Sam's pursed lips. "Murdered for her life's work. Her decryption formulas, her codex … now _that_ you can find. Bring me Nadya's codex, and I'll … break this text right open and give you your cure." She motioned towards the hidden box, and Sam's hands returned to cover it, unconsciously doing his best to hide it from sight.

"Alright, so where do we find this codex?" Alex asked, and she flicked her wings, displeased at their business with the witch. "Is it in a-a church or a crypt?"

"If I were you, I'd start at home." Rowena leaned back in her seat, her blue eyes taking in the two hunters that sat in front of her. "Who do you think murdered Nadya and stole the codex in the first place?"

"The Men of Letters." Sam looked over at Alex, and she nodded as she pushed herself to her feet.

"Great. Well, we'll call you when we need you, huh?" Alex motioned Sam to his feet, grace roiling angrily within her chest, but the witch merely watched them rise with a calm, collected gaze. "Come on, Sam." She pushed her chair back towards the table she had stolen it from, face darkening at how Rowena's eyes fell greedily onto the Book of the Damned. "Let's go."

...

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** lex stretched her legs out on the war room table, tipping back a beer as she dragged a finger down the page in the small, handwritten text. Piles of books sat on either side of her feet, and with a shake of her head, Alex snapped the small book closed and tossed it onto the pile on the left. Useless.

The bunker door swung open with a bang, and the angel looked up to watch Dean saunter through the door, humming a low tune under his breath. Blood covered his clothes and his face, and Alex worriedly pressed out her grace to confirm that the Winchester was unharmed. Sam followed more slowly, dragging his feet behind his brother, and Alex let her feet fall from the table onto the floor at the sight of his tight-lipped frown. "Hey," she greeted, eyes flickering between the two hunters. "Everything okay? How was the vamp nest?"

"It was _awesome_." Dean's grin widened even further. "I took down six vamps solo. I gotta say — I think that's a personal best."

"And what if you couldn't have handled it, huh?" Sam dropped his bag down onto the table beside Alex's books with a deep-set scowl. "You should have waited for me, man!"

"Oh, come on." Dean gave a dramatic roll of his eyes. "I can handle it — I _did_ handle it. It's done, okay?" His eyes turned from his brother to land on Alex, shoulders falling to find the same frown echoed on the angel's face. "Come on. It's the only way I can take the edge off. So what if I don't like to wait around for you, especially with you looking at me like … like I'm some sort of diseased puppy," he told Sam before a pointed finger swung in Alex's direction. "And you — you didn't even bother to show up, so I don't know why you even get a say in this."

Alex shrugged, unable to defend herself against his accusations, and the Winchester adjusted his grip on the bag slung over his shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm sweaty and covered in vamp juice. I think a shower and a beer are calling my name."

Dean disappeared down the hall, and Alex watched him go with a shake of her head. "Well?" Sam's voice had her attention turning away from the departing hunter. "What did you find?"

"Nothing yet." Alex shook her head in disgust. "I'm not good at this kind of stuff, Sam. I'm halfway through all the books marked under the word 'codex,' but at this point it's all just gibberish about ancient Latin spellwork." She motioned disgustedly down to the tallest stack of books. "Nothing even mentions a witch named Nadya."

"Okay. Well, I'll come help you once Dean's passed out." The Winchester glanced towards the hallway at the sound of the shower turning on. "I don't think it'll take long after tonight. He had already downed a drink or two before we even left the nest." Sam shook his head disparagingly, and Alex sank back down into her seat. "I don't know what to do with him anymore."

Alex shook her head, unsure of how to console him. "I'll keep looking," she finally said. "Go take care of yourself first — shower, eat, whatever you gotta do. I'll be here whenever you're ready to pitch in."

"Thanks." Sam clapped her on the shoulder on his way past, and Alex grabbed her next book off of the war room table, muttering a curse under her breath as she flipped open the first page.

She wasn't sure how long she spent staring at the swimming letters before Sam reappeared, freshly showered and clothed. "Still nothing?" he guessed, and Alex flicked her wing in agreement.

"Yup," she agreed after a second, mentally reminding herself that the Winchester couldn't see the action. "Why don't you start going through the cards, huh? Maybe a fresh set of eyes will see something that I missed."

"Yeah. Sure thing." Sam moved off into the library, and Alex reluctantly tossed her newest book onto the discard pile, head falling back with a low groan. "Dean's already out cold," she heard Sam tell her. "I don't think he'll be up til the afternoon."

Alex picked up her phone, head tipping in confusion. "Oh, it's already morning?" She glanced up towards the bunker entrace, the thick metal door the only thing sitting between her and the early morning sun. "You really lose track of time when you don't need to eat."

She heard Sam grunt; whether it was in agreement or of some other origin was hard to tell. Her eyes were on her phone, skimming through Castiel's most recent text. _Arrived in Ohio_ , it read. _Haven't found anything useful yet. Will keep you posted._

 _Be careful. Don't do anything you'd regret._ Alex reread the text a few times before she sent it with a shrug, tossing the phone back onto the table.

A mechanical click had the angel looking up in time to watch Sam throw an audio reel onto a reel-to-reel tape player in the library. The Winchester placed a pair of headphones over his ears as he settled down at the table and, with a shrug, Alex dropped her eyes back down onto her phone. Castiel hadn't responded, and with a sigh she reached for the next book on her list.

The dialect was ancient, dotted with subscripts written entirely in hieroglyphics, and the angel flicked her wings with a frown to find the translation in her mind slower than she had hoped. Castiel had warned her that their recovered grace was barely enough for one angel; it would take longer than normal for it to fully replenish while sharing it between the two of them.

With a sigh, Alex closed her eyes, reaching into the back of her mind as she followed the thin trail of grace that connected her to her mate. She could see a road ahead of her, farmland flying past on either side, and she felt frustration and urgency mingling within her chest. _Castiel_. She formed the prayer, hoping it would reach her mate. _It's okay. Calm down._

No response came, and Alex reluctantly drew her attention back onto the book in her lap with a sigh; perhaps the distance was too great for their grace to handle.

The angel tucked her book under her arm and rose to her feet, ascending the stairs to enter the library. Sam didn't look up, too engrossed in whatever the audio held, and Alex dropped down in the seat across from him as she once again flipped her book open.

She had barely progressed two pages before Sam's hand thudded against the table, snapping her out of her thoughts. Alex looked up, frowning slightly at the interruption, but her frustration quickly dispensed at the sight of the Winchester's face. "You found something." She closed her book as Sam pulled the headphones off and dropped them onto the table. "What is it?"

"So y-you remember Cuthbert Sinclair — Magnus, the Man of Letters with the, uh, the First Blade, right?" Sam stumbled slightly over his words, his eagerness tripping up his tongue, and Alex gave a nod.

"Yeah, of course," she agreed. "How could I forget that douchebag?"

"Well, he was expelled from the Men of Letters in 1956 because of a box he built which killed two other members. He, uh, he called it the Werther box, and he designed it to hold the codex." Sam pushed himself to his feet, digging around in his pocket for his phone. "They were keeping it in St. Louis, and from what I heard, they weren't able to shut it down. I bet it's still there."

"Okay, but … Sam, if that thing killed two Men of Letters, how the hell are we going to get in there?"

"I bet Rowena knows a spell." Sam tossed his phone onto the table and pressed the speaker button, and the ringing of the phone filled the room.

Rowena answered after four rings. "I'm over three hundred years old," she warned, her voice tired yet sharp. "Beauty sleep _isn't_ optional."

Sam ignored the stinging comment. "I've been looking into the, uh, thing we discussed," he began, glancing towards the hall, and Alex stretched out her grace to make sure that Dean was not within earshot. "So, I got a lead, but it's guarded by a violent enchantment. I need a spell to … break the spell."

"The Cabirian invocation." Rowena stifled a yawn. "Easy to obtain, good all-purpose disenchantment."

"Great. Thanks." Sam moved to hang up, but the witch hurriedly jumped back in.

"Uh, but it's not recommended for amateurs," she warned. "In inexperienced hands, the invocation has a way of fizzling out. I could come," she suggested after a moment's pause, her voice lifting hopefully. "You might need me."

"We'll take our chances, thanks." Sam hung up and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. Alex pushed her book off of her lap and onto the table as the Winchester circled past her on his way to the archive catalog boxes, and after a moment of thumbing through, returned to the table. "Here's the address of the St. Louis safe house," he announced, dropping the card so he could scribble the address onto a notepad. "Go get packed," he added, ripping the page off and shoving it into his pocket. "I'll leave Dean a message so he knows we'll be gone for a day."

Alex hesitated, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt, but the Winchester's face held nothing but pure determination. "Okay," she relented. "Give me five minutes, and I'll meet up by the Marquis."

...

 **St. Louis, Missouri**

 **T** he light-blue Mercedes Marquis pulled up alongside a suburban curbside, and the engine died as Alex removed the keys. "This the place?" She turned her eyes to the house across the street, the yard overgrown with junk and weeds. All of the blinds were drawn, and two of the windows were boarded up.

"2199 Hawthorne," Sam confirmed. "Yeah, that's it. The Werther box should be inside." He undid his seatbelt and threw open the door, and Alex followed more slowly. She reached back to grab her angel blade off of the backseat, tucking it into the back of her jeans. Her grace latched onto the weapon, holding it in place, and Alex's eyes flickered closed for the briefest of seconds at the feeling.

"Okay, what do you want me to do?" Alex closed the car door as Sam circled around to stand at her side. "Want me in the back or front?"

"Back. We can cover more ground that way." Sam shoved his hands in his pockets, and Alex gave a small nod before she slipped off towards the home. She glanced over her shoulder to watch Sam make his way up the front step before she disappeared around the side of the house. She drew her wings in against her back as she let her grace sneak out, searching the home for the cursed box.

What she found instead was a human soul. "What?" Its presence had Alex drawing up short with a frown. Sam had said this house should have been abandoned. Why was there someone inside?

Her feet carried her back to the front. "Sam!" she hissed, turning the corner in search of the Winchester. He was standing next to the door, his hands raised defensively. He glanced up at the sound of his name, and the angel's jaw tightened at the sight of a rifle barrel sticking out through mail slot. "There's someone inside."

The pursing of Sam's lips followed by the faint jerk of his head towards the door relayed his frustration. "You got three choices," said the female voice from inside the house. "Get arrested, get your bits blown off, or get back."

The rifle barrel jerked in emphasis, and the Winchester quickly backpedaled. "Yeah, alright. I think I'll, uh, think I"ll get back. Sorry." He backed away, and Alex hurried after him as he quickened his pace to reach the street. "Shit," he cursed as he pulled open the car door, and Alex circled around to the passenger seat to join him inside. "That went well."

"How's the case?" The back door opened, and Alex looked back in surprise to see Dean Winchester crawling into the backseat. Her grace flicked, feeling outwards to see if there were any other unwanted guests in the area, but she felt nothing.

"What are you doing here?" She almost missed Sam's exclamation of surprise.

"Well it looks like I, uh, I'm here to save your sack," Dean joked, but when neither of the hunters in the front seat shared in his amusement, he shook his head. "Look, you were right, okay?" he admitted. "I shouldn't have gone off solo like I did. It was stupid."

"And?"

"And selfish," he finished after Sam's prompting. "It was a douche move. But if you're doing this case without me to teach me a lesson, you don't have to, okay?"

"How'd you find us?" Alex turned in her seat so she could face Dean more, and her bony wings flickered in displeasure.

"Ah." The question had Dean grinning smugly. "I, uh, took an etching off your notepad. Then, I decided to take a crack at the St. Louis suicide house."

"So you know about it."

The Winchester shrugged at his brother's words. "I got the basics of Google. The family moves into the long-vacant house. Uh, one week later, three of 'em dead by their own hands. Whole family wiped out except for the daughter, and the house is still under her name. I'm figuring she's the one who nearly unmanned you back there," he teased before the humor from his voice died. "But see, here's what I don't get. A cold case is one thing, but …" Dean shook his head. "This is subzero. I mean, there's nothing even in our wheelhouse, unless you know something I don't."

Sam glanced over at Alex, and she turned her head to calmly meet his gaze. "Yeah," the tall hunter finally admitted. "Uh … that long-vacant home used to be a Men of Letters' chapter house. Remember Magnus?"

"You mean the dickwad ex-Men of Letters that tried to make a zoo exhibit out of me?" Dean snorted in disgust. "Yeah."

"Before he was expelled, he built Werther, a magical box with a deadly alarm system." Sam nodded towards the vacant home. "Werther is buried somewhere in that house," he explained. "It was supposed to have been guarded, but I'm guessing that plan went out the window when Abaddon massacred the entire membership in '58."

"And then the house stayed in limbo until some lucky family bought it," Dean finished with a nod.

"Yeah," Alex agreed, and Sam added, "Werther is a time bomb and it needs to be defused. Not only is this in our wheelhouse, it's our responsibility."

Dean's eyebrow lifted. "Our responsibility?" he repeated.

"We're Men of Letters. It's our legacy."

The eldest Winchester paused, searching his brother's face. "Alright," he finally conceded. "Well, hey, if you say this is a case, I'm in. If you'll have me."

Alex glanced over at Sam, a question in her eyes, and the Winchester gave her a small, barely perceptible nod. "Okay," he relented, and he turned in his seat so he could face both Alex and his brother. "We need to get into that house, so we need a distraction to keep her occupied."

"Easy. Let me go talk to her." Dean's chest puffed out slightly, pleased to be included. "I'll take Pip with me."

"Er … I don't think that's a good idea." Alex shrugged her shoulders with a glance back towards the house. "I think she might have seen me when I left with Sam. Besides," she added, "Now that I'm powered back up, I'm way more useful in searching for spooky boxes."

Something flickered in Dean's eyes, gone before the angel could read it, and he shrugged. "Suit yourself." He threw open the car door, and Alex and Sam did the same, stepping back out onto the rough pavement. Sam took the lead, making a beeline for the side of the house, and Alex moved to follow, but a hand around her wrist had her glancing back. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Uh… sure." Alex stepped back behind the car with Dean, a small frown of confusion across her face. "If this is about us just leaving you —"

"Sh." Dean cut her off with a shake of his head. "Listen, I don't know what's going on between you and Sam —"

"What?"

"— But you gotta be careful, okay?" Dean ignored her interruption, and the angel's head tipped further to one side. "I mean, I know you're not happy about Crowley's trump card, but I thought you and Cas were working things out."

"Wait, Dean —" Alex quickly snapped her jaw shut, cutting herself off before more words left her mouth; she didn't know where this was going, but perhaps it would provide a good excuse going forward.

Dean paused, but when Alex didn't continue, he shook his head. "Sam's a sensitive soul, and with the two of you sneaking off to — to go see movies and spend the night — I don't want you giving him the wrong idea, especially once you and Cas make up."

Alex pursed her lips together, swallowing back her amusement to keep a straight face. "Sam's a big boy," she promised, trying her best to keep her face from going red. "I think he'll understand. I'll talk to him though," she added, tossing a look back over her shoulder. "But I think we should focus on this case first."

She hurried back towards Sam without waiting for Dean's response, rolling her eyes when the Winchester couldn't see. "Hey." Sam was waiting against the side of the house, a small frown on his lips. "What did Dean want?"

"He, uh … he thinks we're sleeping together and is worried about yours and Cas' feelings." The angel gave a second dramatic roll of her eyes. "I figured I'd let him keep thinking that for a while. Better he suspect that than what we're really doing behind his back."

Sam's hazel eyes darkened slightly at his words, teeth digging into his lips as he thought, but he gave a reluctant nod. "You're right," he agreed. "Yeah, uh ... good call, I guess." He turned on his heels and continued towards the back of the house, and Alex followed, stretching her grace back to feel the other Winchester's position. He was on the front step, speaking with the woman behind the door.

"Here, let me through." She lengthened her stride to reach Sam, drawing her grace away from Dean and turning it onto the locked gate in front of them. The pins turned up, clicking into place, and the wooden gate swung open. "Dean's got her distracted at the moment, but we need to be careful," she reminded as she followed Sam into the backyard. "Who knows what living decades above this box does to a person."

She pressed her grace out further to unlock the back door as she wove her way among the piles of trash and metal that decorated the backyard. Sam was already at the door, slowly pushing it open, and Alex reached out to where Dean and the inhabitant were standing in the front room. She pressed a finger up against her lips to remind the hunter to be quiet before she followed him into the house and gently pushed the door closed behind her.

"It's a nice house you have here," she heard Dean say, and she pressed her back up against the wall as footsteps approached. "Uh …"

"Suzie." The name came in a wary reply, and Alex's deep frown tightened as the voice paused in the room at the end of the hall. Sam was pressed up against the wall across from them, in full view of the room in which Dean and Suzie stood, and Alex closed her eyes, focusing on her grace to track the movement of those around her.

The angel didn't realize that she was holding her breath until she felt Suzie turn away, her attention now on the steel kettle on the stove. She let her grace move out to unlock the padlock on the basement door, and Sam slipped down the darkened stairs. Alex followed, glancing down the hall to see Dean flash her a quick thumbs-up before she followed after his brother.

The stairs creaked slightly beneath her weight, and Alex momentarily froze before she closed the door completely and she continued her descent.

The unfinished room at the bottom of the stairs was cluttered and dusty, and Alex wrinkled her nose as her eyes easily adjusted to the dim light. "Where's the box?" She muttered the words to herself, stretching her grace out through the basement. "Sam." She hissed the hunter's name. "If Werther is here, it's warded. I can't feel it."

A breath of annoyance left Sam's nose, and his eyes turned upwards towards the kitchen where Dean and Suzie stood before he nodded. "Keep looking," he murmured. "There has to be something here."

With a shrug, Alex wove off among the broken furniture, eyes sweeping the piles in search of anything vaguely supernatural.

"Psst." Sam's hiss had her turning, and the angel picked her way back towards the hunter. "Over here." The Winchester was standing next to a hole in the wall, half-plugged by old furniture. Alex peered through the tangle of chair legs, eyes scanning the small room beyond.

She gave a quick nod as she stepped away, and she flicked her grace upwards to confirm that Dean and Suzie were still occupied. "Go for it." She carefully extracted one of the wedged cardboard boxes, balancing it on one of the piles behind her while Sam carefully leaned the old spring bed frame up against the wall.

She set the old chair beside the stairs before she squeezed her way through the hole in the concrete. A rectangular iron box sat against the far wall, surrounded by a thick layer of dust, and the angel curled a lip at the sight. "Bet this is it." She reached out to touch the top, drawing back as energy sparked up through her fingers, causing her grace to recoil in surprise.

Sam knelt down beside the Werther box and pulled a small shallow bowl out of his pocket. A small ziploc bag of herbs followed, and Alex took up a position at his side, half-turned so she could see both the box and the stairs.

A quick nudge from Sam's elbow had her snapping out her grace to light the spell, and flames jumped up into the air from the shallow bowl. " _Purificare la magia_ ," Sam murmured, but his incantation was cut short by Dean's sharp voice.

"Sam?" it called, and Alex immediately perked up, concern darkening her eyes. "Sammy? Alex! She wants you up here, now?"

"Dammit." The flames died from the bowl, and Sam cursed under his breath.

"Hey," Alex warned as the Winchester reached for the handle of the iron box, "I feel like that's a bad idea. There's no way you finished the spell before —" The handle clicked, and the air rang with an explosion as green smoke poured forth, twisting through the air before darting past and disappearing up the stairs. "I take that back. That was a _terrible_ idea." Alex smacked Sam across the top of his head, not bothering to wait for a response before she rushed up towards the kitchen.

"You let it out!" Suzie's panicked, enraged scream came from down the hall, and Alex turned the corner in time to see the green smoke branch, separating into smaller orbs. They shot off towards Suzie and Dean, and, before Alex could react, two spiraled across her vision. The smoke diffused across her eyeballs, the feel of the spell hot yet painfully cold, and Alex felt her grace rise in protest.

"Dean!" Sam slid to a stop beside her, his hands going up defensively at the sight of Suzie's revolver pointed directly towards them. "Hey, hey, hey, take it easy." He looked around, brow furrowing in worry. "Where'd it go?"

"Do you have any idea what you've done?!" The woman's voice was near hysterical, and Alex stepped forward to position herself between Suzie and the Winchester.

"It went into them," she murmured. "And into me. What — what about you? Did it get you, too?"

"I … I don't know," came the hesitant response; Sam's attention was still fully on the gun. "What the hell was that?"

"No idea. My grace is keeping any side effects at bay." The sound of the revolver cocking had the angel frowning. "Hey, just put the gun down," she warned. "Let's just calm down and talk about this, okay?"

"What's that?" The gun swung up between Sam and Dean, pointing at the wall, and Alex's frown shifted from one of anger to one of confusion. "Oh, my God."

"What's wrong with her?" Dean glanced over his shoulder towards the wall.

Suzie paid no attention to Dean's words; her eyes were wide, the hair on her arms raised in fear. "Stay back," she demanded, and Alex looked between the two Winchesters; neither had moved a muscle. "Stay back!"

"Go." Dean bolted out of the room, and Sam followed, leaving Alex to take up the rear. Her wings pressed up tightly against her back as the gun discharged, and she flinched away as the shell dug into the wall behind them. "You opened the damn box?" Dean hissed, and his green eyes flashed angrily. "What are you doing, huh? You don't have a plan. You don't have a defense —"

Suzie's scream had Dean cutting off, and Alex's grace flicked out in search of the woman. She was already halfway across the house, and Alex's wings rose warily at the sound of a heavy door slamming shut. "Suzie?" Sam took off down the hall, and Alex took a step in his direction before hesitating.

"Dean?" She turned back to the Winchester with a frown. "How … how do you feel? That thing — it went into you, right?"

"What thing?" Dean's head tipped, eyes narrowing on confusion. "What do you mean?" His question was partially drowned out by another terrified shriek. "Come on. We need —" He stepped forward, and then he froze.

"Need?" Alex repeated. "Need to what?" She peered towards the door which Dean was facing, but there was nothing. "Dean?" She turned back to Dean. "Dean?" She waved a hand in front of the hunter's face. His eyes were blank and tinted a dark, vibrant green, the irises constricted and staring off into the distance, and she placed her hands on his chest. "Hey! Dean!" She shoved her grace inwards, hissing at the cold wall that met her. "Dammit!"

She gently teased at the wall she had set up around the spell in her eyes. "What the hell are you?" she murmured. She loosened the woven net, letting the curse advance. It shot up her optic nerve, stretching toward her brain, and Alex hurriedly to retie as it enveloped her brain. She felt the claws tighten their hold, digging into her mind, and her head twitched as she tried to dislodge it.

She turned on her heels and hurried down the hall, wings flapping in an attempt to speed up her pace.

"Suzie, let me in!" Sam was pounding on the wooden door. "I can help you! Whatever you're seeing, it — it's not real!" He pulled his hand away from the handle as Alex came to stop at his side. "Get this open!"

"Dude, that curse had a hold on Dean. Bad." She reached out while she spoke, grabbing the handle and undoing the lock until the door swung open. "I think —"

She cut off as something flickered in her periphery, a dark figure at the end of the hall that was gone before she could see its face. Alex turned, wings lifted as she searched for the stranger with a flick of her grace, but there was nothing. The angel prowled down the hallway with a confused tip of her head.

A gunshot came from behind the door, and Alex flinched at the immediate smell of blood. She turned back, the stranger forgotten. "She's dead." The words left her mouth as Sam rushed into the room, and Alex reluctantly followed, cursing under her breath at how she had let herself get distracted.

Suzie's body lay by the window, the back of her skull decorating the glass above her head. "What do you think had her spooked?" Alex's wings curled forward in faint curiosity as she crossed the room, passing Sam to nudge at the discharged gun.

"Nothing good." Sam turned back to the hall, and Alex glanced back over her shoulder when no further explanation came. The Winchester was standing stiff as a board, eyes stretched wide in surprise, and Alex's feathers ruffled nervously; not him, too.

"Sam …" Three steps carried her to his side. "Hey! Snap out of it!"

"This isn't real." The Winchester's voice sounded strained as he stared at the doorway. "You're not real."

"Who are you seeing?" Alex slipped in front of the Winchester, and she waved her hands in front of his face.

The hunter's irises were tinted green, but, unlike Dean, the spell had a weaker hold, and Sam batted her hands away with a scoff. "I can still see you," he snapped. "But Suzie … can't you see her?" He gestured to the air in front of him, but Alex gave a sharp shake of her head. "I … I think I know how the box is getting people to kill themselves." He nodded towards the corpse in the corner of the room, and Alex's eyes fell on the gun as the dots. "It guilts its victims into suicide -"

" _Vanesce!"_ Alex's wings spread wide furiously as she spun back around towards the sound of Rowena's voice. The green light faded from Sam's eyes, and he blinked in surprise. The redheaded witch leaned up against the doorway, her black cape draped dramatically over her shoulders. "Told you you'd need me," she crowed, and Alex's ragged feathers fluffed out in displeasure.

"How did you find us?" she hissed, and Rowena's blue eyes glimmered in amusement.

"Same way I just saved him — magic." Her thickly-painted lips pulled up to reveal white teeth pressed together in a sly grin, and she moved into the room, unlatching her cloak and laying it over the desk. "Had a feeling you might be in over your head."

"Yeah, well, you can't be here." Sam pushed his way past the witch, and Alex followed, purposefully stepping closer than the Winchester so Rowena had to shifted out of the way. "If Dean sees you …" He trailed off as he entered the study, and Alex's lips pursed at the sight of the eldest Winchester. "Dean!"

"Sam." The quiet, expressionless word slipped past Dean's lips, the only sign of life in his stiff body. His eyes were still staring into the distance, half-lidded, and he didn't even flinch when Alex snapped her fingers in front of his ears. "Hey, hey, hey!" Sam pushed past her to clap his hands next to his brother, but there was still no reaction. "Wake up!" he yelled. "Dean! Whatever you're seeing, it's not real!"

"It's real enough to him." Rowena's voice came from the doorway, and Alex shot a dark glance over her shoulder towards the witch.

"What are you doing?" Sam spun around, ready to hustle her out of sight, but Rowena slipped past him to walk directly in front of the green-eyed Winchester.

"He can't see me, Sam," she promised, her voice silky smooth, and she waved her hands in front of Dean's face to confirm her words. "Yeah, he's too far gone."

"Well?" Alex snapped. "Can't you wake him up?"

"I only brought enough dispelling magic for one." Rowena fixed Alex with a cold, tempered stare, and the angel's wings flapped twice angrily, stirring the air in the room. "Maybe if you'd told me we'd have company …"

"For the last time; there is no _we_."

"Fine, take this all on by yourself." Rowena shrugged as she looked over at Sam. "But the odds are _totally_ stacked against you."

"You're not real." Dean's lips moved around the vacant words, and Alex put a hand up on his chest, pushing up against the spell in another fruitless attempt to break through.

"Oh, the spell's got its hooks in deep." Rowena chuckled as she turned back to Dean. "If you want him woken up … you're gonna have to rip this enchantment out by the root."

"The box." Sam glanced off towards the basement door. "If we can figure out the fail-safe, we can break the spell and get the codex." He swiped a hand through his hair, indecision dancing in his eyes. "Suzie's hallucinations drove her to suicide. Same thing happened to her family. Werther's illusions tried to do the same thing to me."

"And so?"

"So we can't leave Dean alone like this," Sam finished, frowning slightly at the witch's interruption.

"Well then, we'll just have to tie up the bonny lad." Rowena stepped closer to the Winchester, reaching up to tug slightly on the front edges of his jacket. "Could be fun." She tapped Dean on the nose, and Alex rolled her eyes.

"I'll take her downstairs, and we can start working on the box," she told Sam. "You can get Dean secured and then join us." Alex paused, waiting for Sam to nod; once he did, she pointed the witch down the hall. "Come on. I'll take you to Werther."

She ignored Rowena's interested hum as she led the way down the basement stairs. "Watch your step," she called over her shoulder as she reached the landing. "This places is a bit messy." She wove through the piles to the small hole in the wall, not even glancing back to see if the witch was still following. "This is it."

Rowena knelt down in front of the box, running her hand over the inset golden circle that took up the front panel. "There's some kind of inscription," she began. "It's some sort of cursive, but the light source has dimmed." She ran her hand over the faded writing, and Alex let her eyes drop down onto the strange bowl-like structure that was attached below the inscription. "I know what I've said about humanity," Rowena continued, "but … oh, the man who came up with this? The craftsmanship of the box, the sadism of the spellwork … it's all so … deliciously baroque."

"Alright, come on." Sam appeared behind them, and Alex stepped aside to let him through. "Can you read the damn thing or now?"

" _Illumina_ …" Rowena brushed her hand over the golden disk, and the writing glowed, coming to life. She tilted her head, studying the letters before she read it aloud. _"Arcam confutare … sitim restinguere … sanguine nostrum._ "

"To silence the box, quench the drought — uh, thirst," Alex corrected, and Sam grunted in agreement with her translation. "With our blood. Or the blood of our own." She ended with a shrug of her shoulders. "Great. Obscure Latin _and_ a riddle."

"That's it?" Rowena's eyes narrowed in surprise. "The blood of its own … what?"

"The blood of our own." Sam crouched down next to the witch. "Men of Letters blood," he explained, and Alex frowned as he rolled up his sleeve to reveal his forearm. "Legacy blood. _My_ blood."

He dug a knife out of his pocket, and Alex reached out to put a hand on his shoulder to slow him down. "Hold up," she warned. "How do you know this will even work?"

"I don't." Sam grit his teeth as he drew the blade across his forearm, hissing as the steel cut through his skin. The blood welled up from the wound, and Sam grunted, tightening his hand into a fist as he positioned his arm over the bowl.

The blood dripped downwards, slowly flowing down towards the small opening in the bottom of the basin. Alex's ears perked at the sound of turning gears as the first drop of blood entered the box. "It's working." Amazement filled Rowena's voice as she watched, and Sam answered with another, drawn-out grunt.

The sound of shattering glass had Alex looking up, and she squeezed Sam's shoulder one more time. "Don't let him bleed out." She nudged at Rowena's hip with her foot. "I need to go upstairs and see what that noise was."

She slipped back out through the hole in the wall and hurried up the stairs, grace poised warily. "Hello?" she called. "Dean?"

The Winchester was standing in the living room, a pile of snapped ropes at the foot of a chair behind him. His hand gripped the top half a shattered bottle, the sharpened edges gleaming in the light. "Hey!" Alex lengthened her step, calling out, but Dean stared on blankly ahead, oblivious to the jagged glass in his hand. "For fuck's sake …"

Her feet carried her into a run for the last three steps up to the Winchester, and Alex wrapped her hand around his, teeth grit as she tried to pry open the thick, strong fingers. "Let go!" The words came out as a hiss as she strained under the effort, but the curse held tight, locking the hunter's muscles. "Dean!"

She threw her grace against him as she felt him tighten around the makeshift weapon, and the force sent the hunter back a step. Dean's eyes stretched open, the light returning, and Alex felt the curse retreat enough for her to snatch the bottle from his hands. "Where's Sam?"

The angel ignored the question. "Are you okay?" she pressed. "How are you feeling? What happened?"

"I'm fine." Her concern was brushed off, and Alex's lips pursed tightly as Dean turned away. "Sam?"

"Hey!" Alex grabbed his wrist, and Dean turned to face her. "Hold up a moment. You were totally comatose there — and you looked like you were about to plunge that thing into your heart." Dean's eyes flickered down towards the bottle, and the angel softened her tone. "I need to know that you're okay."

"The Mark wouldn't let me die." Dean's jaw squared as he uttered the words, and he pulled his arm free. "Now where's my brother?"

"Downstairs." Alex watched as Dean stalked off down the hall, and she followed with a frown. "Dean," she warned, "hang on a moment —"

"Sam?" Dean hurried down the stairs, his boots echoing loudly through the basement. "Sam!" He paused at the landing for moment, eyes scanning the room before coming to rest on the hole in the wall, and that brief moment of hesitation gave Alex enough time to catch up.

"Dean —" She began again, but Dean didn't stop to listen.

"Sam!" He broke into a run as he ducked through the wall. "Hey! Sammy, whatever you're seeing, it's — it's a trick, okay? It's not real!"

"Dean?" Sam's voice was weak, and Alex forced her way into the crowded space, roughly shouldering Rowena out of the way.

The box had stopped its clicking, and Sam's face was pale and bloodless. "I told you to keep him alive!" Alex reached to to place her palm over Sam's forehead, panic spiking at her grace to see how his eyes rolled upwards.

"Hey!" Dean's sharp tone had her pulling back suddenly, and her eyes flickered down to the bloody knife in Sam's hand, raised to draw another incision across his forearm. "No!" He pushed Alex aside as he reached for the knife.

"Get away from me!" Sam surged upwards, surprising Alex with his strength as he fought for the blade. Dean wrestled it away easily, and Sam slumped back against the ground, his energy vanquished. "No, don't!" he pleaded, and Alex knelt down at his side, one hand on his forehead, the other wrapped around the cut on his arm. Her nails dug into his skin, the warm, slippery blood making it difficult to get a firm grasp, and her grace rushed in to mend the torn vessels. She closed her eyes, sending it deeper to replenish the lost blood, and she felt it flicker uncertainty as the curse renewed its vigor to embed itself in her brain. A shadow flickered in the corner of her eye, and Alex's head snapped to the side, eyes stretched wide as she tried to catch sight. A flash of blonde hair was all she saw before her grace snapped up, containing the curse and driving it back.

"Don't!" Sam's plea came stronger as his blood was renewed, and Alex squeezed his arm sharply to keep him from rising back to his feet. "It's the only way. It needs legacy blood — enough to take a life!"

"Yeah, well … it doesn't have to come from just one legacy, does it?" Dean rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, and the raised tail of the Mark caught in the light. "If it needs more blood, it can have mine."

His words ended in a grunt as he drew the blade across his wrist, and the box's tumblers began clicking again. The golden disk spun, and with a single, loud click, the door swung open.

Smoke filled the air, not originating from the Werther box, and Alex drew her grace back into her body as she spun around in surprise, searching for the source. The smoke faded almost instantaneously, and the angel flicked her wing in frustration to find that Rowena was gone. Her grace snaked out, searching for the witch, but she was no longer in the house.

Her attention turned onto Dean, and she grabbed his forearm, grace rushing out to heal the deep wound before any more blood was lost. " _Careful_ ," she chastised, eyes flickering from Dean down to Sam. "You idiots could have _died_ opening that box."

Her concern was brushed off without so much as a word, and Alex shouldered Dean out of the way to fully yank open Werther's door. "What's in there?" she heard Dean ask, and Alex pulled out a small, leather-bound book in response.

Dean reached across her, and the angel quickly turned away, flipping through the pages. "I don't know what this is," she lied. "There's no title page." She handed the codex over to Dean, watching as the hunter's brow furrowed in confusion as he paged through the book.

He tossed it to Sam, who had managed to push himself to his feet, and Alex shifted out of the way as Dean hefted the Werther box up into his arms with a grunt. His footsteps disappeared up the stairs, and Alex shifted closer to Sam, dropping her voice. "That's it, isn't it? The codex?"

"Yeah, I — I think." Sam shoved the book deep into his pocket. "Rowena'll know, wherever she went."

"She'll come when we call," Alex promised, her eyes darkening as they turned towards the corner of the room the witch had last occupied. "I think the Book of the Damned alone would have her running to us like a dog." She shook her head as she stepped through the hole in the wall, ducking her head to fit. "With magic like that …"

"Don't worry. I'll make sure she doesn't have the chance to leave with the codex." Sam scrunched his shoulders to fit through the hole after her, and Alex led the way up the stairs and out into the front lawn.

The Impala stood across the street, Dean beside it, and Alex cocked an eyebrow at the sight of a sledgehammer in his hands. "Dean!" She lengthened her stride, concern in her voice, and the hunter looked up at his name. "What's the plan?"

"I'm going to destroy this fucking box — that's the plan." Dean hefted the weapon in his hands, feeling the weight, and Alex rolled her eyes.

"It's just a box now," she reminded. "We already broke the spell. Anything past this is just overkill."

"And soon it's going to be scrap metal," Dean finished, tossing the hammer into the trunk beside the Werther box. "You two road ready?" His eyes turned past Alex to land on Sam.

"Uh, yeah, I'm good, thanks to Alex." Sam gave her a quick nod, and the angel rolled her eyes.

"You'd be lucky if you were still alive if I wasn't around," she retorted, her voice sharper than she intended, and her wings twitched, frustrated at the brothers' carelessness.

Sam shrugged, and with a bang, Dean slammed the trunk shut. "That says something, doesn't it?" he began. "Werther split us up in there. Within an hour, we're both on the brink of death." He circled around the car, digging his keys out of his pocket as he added, "Sorry about yesterday, going rogue on you like that."

"You know what, Dean? Don't apologize." Sam shook his head, falling silent, and Alex chimed in with a, "I think this makes us even."

"I think the universe is trying to tell us something," Dean joked, and he reached out to clap his brother on the shoulder. "We're stronger together than apart. Huh?" He pulled his hand away to half-punch Alex in the shoulder, and the angel forced a small laugh of agreement. Pleased at her reaction, Dean's attention turned back onto the codex in Sam's hands. "Now what could possibly be so valuable that it takes a spell that nasty to protect it, huh?" he mused as he moved to unlock the car.

"No idea." Sam's fingers drummed on the leather cover as he looked down at it. "But whatever it is, we'll keep it safe." He waited until Dean opened the door and climbed into the Impala before adding, "Let me go get my stuff from Alex's car and I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay." Dean waved them off, and Alex followed Sam down the street to the Marquis.

"Here." Sam pressed the codex into her hands, and Alex cast a glance back over her shoulder towards Dean, a frown on her face. "Take this and go to Topeko. There's an old James Brother's distillary just off the highway - the place has been abandoned for years. I'll have Rowena meet you there." Sam's eyse flickered back towards the Impala, and he hurriedly circled around to the trunk to get his things as he continued his orders. "You still have the warded handcuffs in here?"

"Yeah, of course." Alex tucked the codex into her jacket with a nod. "Why?"

The honking of the Impala's horn had her cutting off, shooting a quick glare off towards the impatient Winchester. "I'll text you the details," Sam promised, turning to go. "Just head towards home and I'll get you the address."

"Okay." Alex reached out to grab Sam's arm, stopping him in his tracks. "And what … what if this goes sideways?"

"You can take care of it." Sam's vote of confidence had Alex's wings fluttering happily, and she let her hand fal away. "See you back at the bunker." He hurried away, and Alex slid into her car as the Impala sped away.

...

 **Topeka, Kansas**

The Marquis pulled up alongside the abandoned distillery, and Alex frowned as she pulled the keys out of the ignition, glancing towards the horizion where the setting sun was disappearing behind the trees. Her grace stretched outwards as she exited the car, reaching inwards to find the twisted soul of the redheaded witch, and the angel felt her wings twitch in displeasure when she found her target. "Son of a …" Her muttered curse trailed off as her phone rang, and the angel dug her cell out of her pocket. "Hey, Sam," she answered. "What's up?"

"Hey. We just got back to the bunker. Where are you at?"

"Just arrived myself." Alex circled around to the back of the car, reaching for her keys as she stopped beside the trunk. "Rowena's inside, so I'm just about to go in." She yanked open the trunk, eyes landing on the warded lead box that held the Book of the Damned. "Any last words of wisdom?"

Her joke was rewarded with a small chuckle. "Good luck. I'm pretty sure that you out of all everyone wouldn't have a problem with this."

"Yeah, it'll just be a walk in the park." Alex glanced over towards the distillery. "Well, I shouldn't keep our guest waiting. I'll text you when it's done." She hung up and returned her phone to her pocket before she turned her attention down onto the trunk. She pulled the Book of the Damned and the codex out from the car, tucking both under her arm as she made her way into the distillery.

Her grace lead her down a flight of stairs to a brick room half-submerged in the ground. A stretch of dusty windows decorated the top halves of the walls, their yellowed and cracked glass filtering the fading light. "It's about time." Rowena stood in the center, the light catching on her hair, and the strands seemed to glow like fire. "Oh, you got it!" Her eyes fell on the codex, lighting up in a rare display of delight. "Oh!"

"Yeah, I have it." Alex set the two books down on the wooden table with a barely disguised frown. "Well?" she snapped as Rowena snatched up the codex. "Is that what you need?"

"Oh, aye." The witch's eyes didn't lift from the book in her hands. "This should be plenty." She paused, her gaze turning upwards, and Alex let out a breath of frustration at the confusion in her eyes. "Where's the tall one? I thought he was coming."

"Sam trusts me to take care of you on my own." The angel couldn't help but lift her chin, her few remaining feathers puffing out in pride. "I'll mkae sure to tell him you send your regards."

"Take care of me?" The witch appeared not to have heard her last comment, too fixated on the first. "And what does that mean, pray tell?"

Rowena drew her head up high, and Alex reached into her pocket to pull out the warded handcuffs. "You understand, right?" She surged forward, grabbing at the witch, and the iron shackles locked around her wrist …..(((())))) "It's insurance," Alex promised, and she finally let her disgust creep into her voice. "There's just no trusting your kind."

"We had an agreement!" The witch pulled at her bonds, indignation fueling her fury.

"And that agreement still shands. You decrypt the Book of the Damned and find a way to remove the Mark - and, if you can, to free me from your son's abhorerent curse. Once you do, Sam will burn the book, and then he'll kill Crowley." Alex circled around the table, her fingers dragging over the lead box that hid the Book of the Damned. "But until then … you stay here like this. Sam may be desperate enough to forget how you managed to manipulate the King of Hell, but I haven't." She tapped the box sharply, her blunt nails clicking against the metal. "So. Are you comfortable?"

"You can't - you can't just leave me here!"

"I can. And I will." Alex finished her loop around the table, and she took two steps towards the stairs before she glanced back. "If you want out, I suggest you get to work."


	19. Angel Heart

**June 20th, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** lex kicked the bunker door closed behind her, grace stretching out through the concrete rooms in search of the Winchesters as she bounded down the metal stairs. "Hello?" Sam's voice rang through the halls, and Alex echoed back the greeting as she dropped her duffle bag down onto the war room table. "How'd it go?" Sam stepped into the library, a mug of something hot in his hands, and the angel looked down at her phone to see that it was barely past sunrise.

"The pack went down easily," she promised, and she let her angel blade fall into her hands, grace releasing its bond with the warm, angelic metal as she set it down onto the table beside her things. "The leader was as arrogant as he was stupid, and the rest weren't much better. It was nice to have a good, old-fashioned hunt," Alex added after a moment's thought, and she crossed the room to stand beside the tall hunter. "No — no demons or loopholes. Just a fun time killing some skinwalkers." Sam chuckled, and Alex's grace snuck out to locate Dean, fast asleep in his room. "How, uh, how was you-know-who?"

"She's fine. I brought her some more provisions." Sam set his mug down onto the table with a shrug. "Progress is slow, but the codex is working."

"Glad to hear it. Have you, uh …" Alex circled the table to find a seat, and Sam did the same, dropping into a chair across from her. "Have you heard anything from Cas?" She followed the thin thread of grace outwards, searching for her mate, but a wall blocked her path, firm and immovable. "He's not letting me in, and he didn't pick up my last call."

"No, I, uh, I haven't." Concern darkened Sam's face, and Alex's shoulders fell in disappointment. "Is he okay?"

"He's still alive, I guess. I'd feel it if he died." The angel plucked at the strand, sending waves down towards her mate with a shake of her head. "He's still out there looking for a cure, but I … I don't think he wants me to know he's found nothing." She planted her hands on the table and pushed, leaning back in her chair. "I know I told him to keep fighting, but … " She heaved a sigh, letting her chair fall forward with a thud. "I don't know if I want him to anymore. Not if it means that he's not here with me."

Sam frowned slightly, his long fingers toying with the handle of his mug as he pulled his drink close. "I think … I think you and Cas are going down the same path as me and Dean. Back before you showed up, Dean sold his soul to save my life. And no matter how many times he told me to let it go, I never stop searching for a way out."

"Yeah. I was there when that all went swimmingly." Scorn dragged down Alex's tone, and her eyes flickered down to the ground. "I helped you bury him, remember? And you're gonna have to help him bury me, because he … he won't be able to do it."

"Pip, we still have plenty of time —"

"Eleven months."

"Eleven months," Sam repeated, and Alex frowned at the forced note of optimism in his tone. "Listen, the Book of the Damned … if there's something in there about the Mark, then there has to be something to help you, too. And Rowena wants me to kill Crowley, so maybe —"

"Yeah, maybe." Alex cut him off with a shake of her head. "We'll worry about that after we fix Dean. I have months. He … he might not even had a week." She swiped her hands through her hair with a deep sigh. "Anyways. How was the ghost up north? I'm surprised you guys got back faster than I did."

"What can I say? It was open and shut." Dean appeared in the doorway, and Alex shot him a small wave as he crossed the room and dropped down into a chair at her side. "We had that sucker torched within six hours." The Winchester stifled a yawn, one hand smoothing down his wrinkled shirt while the other tried to control the mess of his hair. "How about you? Werewolves, right?"

"Skinwalker pack. It was good. Fun." The angel slung an arm over the back of her chair, turning slightly to face him. "I'm surprised you're up," she added teasingly. "It's — what, barely six? I thought you'd be sleeping til noon after a job like that."

"Cas woke me up." Dean dug his phone out of his pocket. "He, uh, needs us the Tulsa Memorial Hospital asap. EMTs found Claire unconscious behind a bar, and he wants backup. All of us," he added after a second.

Alex's wings flared up, flapping in frustration, but she managed to keep her voice under control. "He called you?" she asked through a clenched jaw. "Right now?"

"Yeah." Dean's green eyes flickered as he glanced over at Sam. "Why?"

"I've been trying to get a hold of him since last night!" The angel forcefully drew her wings back in as she took in a deep breath. "Why didn't he call me? Did he say? Never mind." She quickly waved off the question, not wanting to hear the answer. "Tulsa's not far. Give me fifteen minutes to shower, and then we can head out."

She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the look that the two brothers shared. She reached out one more time, tugging fruitless on the grace that joined her to her mate. "Fifteen minutes," she mumbled again. "Then we can go."

...

 **Tulsa, Oklahoma**

The Impala rumbled as it took the corner, tires screeching on the pavement as it rolled to a stop. Alex felt her grace twitch as Castiel reached out, and she threw open the door before the car had even come to a stop. "Cas." She stepped out onto the sidewalk, wings rising up as her mate turned to face her, his pacing come to a stop. His wings stretched out, the charred and tattered feathers catching in the harsh sunlight.

"Alex." Two steps carried the seraph up to her, and Alex lifted her chin as his wings hesitantly curled forward. "Thank you for coming."

"Yeah, of course." Her wings flicked in frustration, and she glanced over her shoulder as Sam and Dean climbed out of the car. "We came as soon as Dean passed on the message."

"Cas, look," Dean began, stopping at Alex's side, "we're always glad to help, but Claire and I aren't exactly on the best of terms. I-I mean, should I even be here?" He gestured to himself before pointing over to Alex. "I mean, I killed her friend, and Alex …"

"Is shagging the angel wearing her dad," Alex finished with a flick of her wing. "Yeah, we know."

"I need help from all of you." Castiel's eyes swept across them, lingering no longer on Alex than on either of the brothers. "You were all troubled teens. You speak her language."

Alex rolled her eyes at the overgeneralization, and she looked up to see the amusement on Sam's face. "Alright. How, uh, how is she?"

"Well, I-I haven't actually gone in yet," the seraph admitted after a moment's pause. "I was waiting for backup."

"Back up?" Dean cocked an eyebrow, and Castiel shrugged, unsure what to say as his grace twinged nervously. "Three men and a lady. Let's do this." He clapped Alex on the back as he stepped past, confidence in each step, and Castiel hurried after him.

Sam's hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Alex's wings shifted out of the way. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

"I'll be fine." Alex brushed off his concerned gesture with a shake of her head, taking a single step towards her disappearing mate. "I'll talk to him about it later — he can't ignore me if I'm right in front of him." She moved after Dean and Castiel, leaving Sam to take up the rear.

The front lobby of the hospital was crowded, and Alex followed her mate through the bridge of their grace down the hall. She caught up to them on the flight of stairs, and she flicked a wing out to catch Castiel on the shoulder as she fell in step at his side. "You missed my call last night," she began casually, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Everything okay?"

"I've been busy," came the reply, and Alex tipped her head, trying to distinguish the emotions that lay behind it. "I didn't get your message until late last night, and I didn't want to wake you."

"I don't need sleep anymore," the young angel reminded. "And you can call me anytime, you know."

"I know." Castiel pushed his way through the door and out into the hall, and Alex exchanged a look with Sam, her eyebrows raised in exasperation at the seraph's distracted tone. Sam shrugged, and he held open the heavy white door so Alex could follow after her mate.

"What are you doing here?" The sharp, familiar voice of Claire Novak came from around the corner, and Alex stepped in through the doorway to find the blonde teen laying in the hospital bed, her arms crossed as she glared up at Castiel. Her cold blue eyes turned onto Alex, and Alex held her stare until it flickered over to Dean. "And why the hell did you bring him?"

"Awesome." Dean leaned up against the far wall, arms crossed.

"Uh, the … the police found my number in your emergency contact list," Castiel explained, and his wings pressed in tightly against his back as he stammered out the hesitant reply. Alex felt Sam shift next to her, uncomfortable with the tension in the room.

"Yeah, well … that was a mistake," Claire grumbled, and the hospital bed creaked as she turned her back to them the best that she could. "You can go now."

Castiel glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowed at the rejection, and Alex gestured towards the teen with a nod of encouragement. "Claire …" The seraph turned back to the girl, his wings rising as his voice strengthened. "Why were you at a bar?"

"I wasn't."

Sam brushed past Alex, and the young angel stepped out of the way to let him through. "Claire, what were you doing in an alley outside of a bar?" he asked, and the blonde teen uncurled slightly.

"Wrong place, wrong time," she muttered with a shrug. "Story of my life."

Alex huffed, unable to contain her frustration, and Claire met her noise with a low glare. "Look." Sam stepped forward, blocking the two women from each others' sight. "We're not leaving until you tell us what the hell really happened. So if you want us gone … talk."

Alex took a step closer to Dean, and the teen came back into view. Claire's eyes flickered over to Castiel, and her shoulders fell in reluctance. "I was looking for my mom," she admitted. "I want to find my mom and tell her she ruined my life."

Castiel's chest deflated in a sigh. "Your mom didn't …"

"She left me, and so did my dad," Claire snapped, her voice sour. "But Jimmy's gone, right? Has it easy up in heaven. So … Mom's the only one left I can tell off."

"Okay, then we'll help you find her." Alex pulled her hands out of her pockets, and her wings curled forward slightly as she put forward her offer. "When did anyone last hear from her?"

Distrust flashed through Claire's eyes, but after a moment, she reached for her bag that sat at her bedside. "Uh … when I was living with my grandmother, she used to send me postcards." Claire dug through her bag, and she held out the letter to Sam. "I got it just before my grandma died," she explained, and Castiel stepped forward to take it. "Two years ago. Nobody's heard from her since. It was sent from a motel here in town."

"Curtis Motor Court," Sam read, and Claire nodded.

"That's where I've been crashing. I was at Susie's Bar looking for a loser named Ronnie Cartwright." The teen spit out the name, disdain pulling down the corner of her lips before fading away. "Mom's diary said she was gonna meet him around the time she disappeared. Before he knocked me down, he remembered her name. He knows something."

"Why was Amelia looking for him?"

"She went looking for miracles." Claire's eyes turned back onto Castiel. "She went looking for you."

Alex felt the seraph's grace quiver, and she pushed away the rush of pain that threatened to bleed over into her. "Can I speak to you guys outside?" She nodded toward the door, ushering Castiel out ahead of her with her wings.

Sam and Dean followed more slowly, confused by the sudden request, and once the door had closed behind them, Castiel's shoulders fell, his sorrow finally showing. "This is all my fault."

Sympathy had Alex wrapping a wing around his shoulders, and she pushed her grace up against his as she felt him sag. "It's okay," she promised, and she tucked an arm around his waist as they stopped at the end of the hall. "You didn't mean for this to happen. There — there's nothing that you can do."

"There is something I can do." Castiel's wings extended slightly, pushing her away so he could stand up straight. "I can find Amelia."

Alex's arm dropped away, and she watched as Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look. "She _did_ disappear trying to hunt down an angel," Dean reminded with a shrug. "Might be a case."

"Yeah, but we don't know that."

"Close enough," Dean retorted, and Alex frowned as he rolled his shoulders back. "Come on, give me something to punch already — I'm kidding," he quickly added as Sam and Castiel shared a worried glance over Alex's head. "I'm fine. I'm just … I'm fine."

"You better be." Alex stepped away from Castiel, shoving her fists deep into her jacket pockets. "Tell you what. Why don't we just head down to thar bar Claire mentioned, see if we can track down this, uh, Ronnie Cartwright. He's the only lead that we have."

"Yeah." Sam nodded in agreement. "We should let Claire know where we're going first."

"Perfect." Dean pushed his way past them, vigor and impatience fueling his steps, and Alex hung back with a barely-concealed frown. She hurried after him, leaving Sam and Castiel to take up the rear as she rounded the corner and stepped into Claire's room.

Dean was standing by the empty bed, holding a discarded nightgown in his hands. "Dammit." The Winchester tossed it onto the beside chair, muttering another ill-curse under his breath with a shake of his head. "Well … she either went looking for Ronnie again, or, uh …"

"Yeah." Alex turned at the sound of Sam's voice to find the Winchester standing in the doorway. "Or she went to go grab her stuff before taking off again," he finished, stepping into the room to let Castiel through, and Alex grabbed the clipboard out from its bin beside the door.

She scanned the chart, eyes darting between the boxes in search of the initial diagnosis. "Well, she's got a concussion," she relayed. "If we're lucky, that'll slow her down long enough for us to catch up."

She tucked the chart back into place with a look over at Sam, and the hunter nodded in affirmation. "Right," he agreed. "I'll head to the motel. You three should go check out the bar."

"I — do you want me to come with?" Alex suggested, and she motioned between Dean and Castiel. "Those two can handle it on their own —"

"No, no, don't worry about it." Sam shook his head, and he stuck his hands into his pockets as he took a step towards the door. "I'll go jack a ride from the mall down the street. You three — go find Ronnie. I'll take care of Claire."

...

 **A** lex shifted in the backseat of the Impala, eyes turned out the window as the car sped down the highway. Castiel sat directly in front of him, his wings hanging over the back of the seat, and the young angel's attention turned from the road down onto the exposed bone before her. She reached out, soothing a singed feather that stuck up awkwardly from a small patch near his shoulder, and the seraph's wings twitched at the feeling.

"Hey, Cas," Dean began, the seraph's movement spurring him into conversation, "listen, what you're doing for Claire and helping her find her mom …" Castiel turned his head, and Dean glanced from the road to briefly meet his gaze. "It's good. It's a good thing."

Castiel's head tipped slightly, sensing the hidden hesitation behind the hunter's words. "But?"

"Well, where does it end?" Dean adjusted his grip on the steering wheel with a shake of his head. "I'm not trying to be a dick, but truth is, you're not her dad. In fact, you're not anything to her except a-a constant reminder of someone that's gone."

"No." The seraph shook his head, and he glanced back at Alex in search for support. "I'm … I'm responsible for everything that's happened to her."

"Look, I'm just saying, she's been surviving on her own for quite a while now, and … and that's partly because she doesn't have anybody to answer to. You know, there's … there's nothing holding her back."

"We just found her in a hospital." Castiel's voice rose in frustration, and Alex leaned back as his wings bristled. "You're telling me that she'd be better off on her own?"

"I'm saying she might be stronger on her own." The Impala turned the corner, rolling to a stop across from Susie's bar. "That's all. Now come on." He threw open the door, and Alex followed him out of the car, shaking out her wings as she stepped out into the fresh air. She stretched out a wing towards Castiel, a gesture of comfort, and the seraph reluctantly met it, wingtips brushing across her feathers.

Dean was already halfway across the street, oblivious to the two behind him, and Alex waved Castiel after her as she followed. She pushed her way through the door, nose wrinkling at the sudden rush of human sweat and cheap alcohol. "Excuse me." Dean approached the bar, rifling around in his jacket for one of his fake badges, and Alex hung back as Castiel came to stop at her side. "I'm looking for a man named Ronnie Cartwright?"

The bartender's answer was lost beneath the hum of the crowd, but his gesture further into the bar was clear. Dean turned his head, and Alex moved after him as he disappeared towards the back of the building. A man was sitting in one of the booths, a beer in his hand, and brown eyes flashed in alarm at their approach. He started to rise to his feet, but Dean was there, dropping down beside him to pin the man in the booth. "What's the rush, huh?" The Winchester's eyes drifted across the man, his lips turned down into a frown. "Heading out to beat down another teenager?"

Ronnie's eyes stretched wide as Castiel and Alex joined him and Dean at the booth, and his jaw tightened defensively. "That bitch attacked me!"

Dean's hand snaked out, grabbing the man by the back of his jacket and slamming him down into the table, and Ronnie cried out in surprise as his forehead collided with the wood. "Poor choice of words, pal," Dean warned, and Alex felt Castiel cast an uneasy look around the empty bar at the sudden, violent action. "Now. Amelia Novak. Where is she?" Ronnie's lips pursed together, refusing to answer, and the Winchester cocked an eyebrow. "No?"

He slammed the man's head back against the table, and Alex frowned at the tang of blood that leaked into the air. " _Dean_." Castiel's voice was sharp with an exasperated warning.

"Listen, Ronnie, what do you say, huh?" Dean pulled Ronnie back upwards, and the man reached up to pinch his nose. "We could do this all day, unless you wanna tell me everything you know about Amelia."

"Okay, okay!" Dean released Ronnie, and the man's voice trembled with anger. "I met Amelia. But she was the last one, I swear."

"Last one of what?" Castiel leaned forward, his interest finally piqued.

"I worked for a faith healer." Ronnie's face darkened as Castiel and Dean exchanged skeptical looks. "No, he was the real deal," he insisted. "I was _blind_. He healed me."

"Give us a name." Alex tapped impatiently on the table, and Ronnie pulled his hand from his nose to check for blood before he answered.

"Peter Holloway. After he gave me my sight back, I … well, he made me work for him as payment. I-I-I recruited candidates," he began, stuttering out his explanation. "He had a … specific type. Young, but, uh … lost. Wouldn't be missed."

The booth creaked under Castiel's weight as he shifted in curiosity. "Amelia was one of those 'candidates?"

Ronnie shrugged. "Some people he healed. But others, he, uh … oh man." The man's eyes closed, and a shiver passed down his spine. "Look. I saw him one night. It looked like he was, uh … I don't know — I don't know how to describe it, but he was … he tied one of 'em up and he … he was, uh …" The man shivered once again. "He was cutting on them. Look, after that, I was done, okay? I quit. I haven't heard from Holloway since."

"Where is Holloway now?" Dean's fingers drummed on the table, and Ronnie's eyes flickered down to the table nervously.

"I-I don't know. I haven't seen him in over two years." His hands went up defensively as Dean's fists curled, and Alex reached forward to stop the Winchester.

"I think it's time that we go." Alex rose to her feet, and Castiel hurriedly followed. "Dean? We should get going. Sam will be expecting us back." Her word were accompanied by a glare down at Ronnie, and Dean pushed himself out of the booth with a scoff. "Better make yourself scarce for a while." Alex paused to look down at Ronnie as Castiel and Dean walked away, and the man reached up to feel his bleeding nose again. "Stay out of our way." Fear flashed across his eyes, and with a smile, Alex turned and slipped off into the crowd after her mate.

...

 **T** he sky was darkening as the Impala roared down the road, but Alex barely noticed. Her attention was on her wings, meticulously pruning her faded feathers. Her grace twitched deep in her gut, making her stomach twist uneasily, but the young angel stubbornly ignored the feeling. Her fingers combed through the vanes, untangling and smoothing them until her feathers glistened.

"Dean. Wait." Urgency filled Castiel's voice, and the Impala swerved as Dean jerked on the wheel in surprise. Alex's head snapped up, and the seraph pointed out the window. "It's Claire's birthday today," he said, and Alex followed his finger towards the mall that sat just down the road. "I … I should get her something."

Dean glanced over his shoulder, and Alex shrugged, ignoring the Winchester's deep frown. "Did you have a gift in mind?" she asked, and she moved forward, hooking her arms over the seat as she leaned between the two men.

"I … I was hoping you might have an idea of what she would like," Castiel admitted. "But it's her birthday, and … and she has no one else to celebrate with."

The Impala turned off of the road, pulling into the parking lot, and Alex jumped out of the car, shaking out her wings. They glowed in the dying sun, and the angel drew them back in as Castiel joined her out in the pavement. The twinge in her stomach continued, and the seraph's lips turned down slightly, his wings curling forward. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine." Alex brushed off his concern, tossing her head as she circled around to walk beside Dean. "Come on. I promised Sam we'd be back soon, so we need to hurry." She softened her words with a smile over her shoulder, but she couldn't help the flicker of sympathy at the look on Castiel's face.

She stretched out her wings, beckoning him forward, and she let the seraph fall in step at her side as they entered the mall. She felt him falter slightly as they stepped inside, overwhelmed by the stores that lay in front of them, and Alex nudged him forward. "We'll find her something," she promised. "There's got to be a Hot Topic around here; all the angsty teens like Claire go there." She led the way towards the escalator, leaning over the railing in search of the familiar darkly-lit store. "Ah. Found it."

"Dean, can us a moment alone?" Castiel's voice was slow, and Alex turned in surprise, eyes searching the seraph's face for any sign of what was troubling him. She reached out on her grace, but the wall remained; he clearly had no intentions of letting her into his thoughts.

"Uh, yeah. Sure thing." Dean walked away, his footsteps echoing through the half-empty mall, and Alex crossed back over to stand at his side.

"What's wrong?" She curled her wings forward, head tipped in concern. "If — if this is about how I'm probably going into — into heat, it's okay, Cas. I have it under control." She shoved down her grace when it threatened to rise up, and she pressed her wings tightly against her back as the seraph's own wings lifted slightly, arching above his head.

"There's something eating at you." The seraph pulled her aside as a couple walked by, heads bowed in conversation, and Alex pressed her back up against the concrete pillar that sat beside a dark, empty storefront. "I saw you with Sam yesterday. You were talking about the Book of the Damned —"

He cut off when Alex clamped a hand across his mouth, shooting a quick glance off towards where Dean had disappeared to. "Shh," she hissed. "So you were spying on me?"

"We're mates. Our connection —"

"I know what it does," the angel snapped, her patience wearing thin. "But you can't block me out and then go looking through my eyes when I don't know it!" She threw her grace up against the wall that blocked her from her mate, and she felt it crumble as the seraph reluctantly took it down.

"Why didn't you tell me that the Book was still intact?" Castiel lowered his voice, mindful of Dean's whereabouts, but the sharpness in his tone persisted. "If there's a cure for you —"

"We're looking for a cure for _Dean_. I can wait." Alex's feathers ruffled angrily. "If you were around enough, you'd know Dean needs help now! But no, you're off who-knows-where doing who-knows-what. You won't answer my prayers, you won't answer my calls, you just left me a note and ran off!"

Castiel stood quietly until she finished, his wings sinking lower with each word. "I can't risk Crowley finding out what I'm doing," he finally said, and Alex's wings rose angrily at the neutrality in his tone. "I know you're upset that our grace didn't break the deal, but you're the one who told me that I shouldn't give up. We still have time to figure this out. And I _will_ figure this out." His eyes flickered across Alex's face, searching for any sign of support, but when the angel remained silent, he sighed. "We need to find Claire a gift," he decided. "Like you said, Sam is waiting."

The seraph walked away, leaving Alex standing beside the pillar. She snapped her jaw shut when she realized it was hanging open, and she took the opportunity to shake her own wings out, chasing away the confusion at the abrupt end to the fight. "Everything okay?" Dean appeared from around the corner, and the angel answered with another uncomfortable twitch of her wings.

"Not sure," she added vocally after a moment when the silence lengthened. "How much did you hear?"

"Just that he hasn't given up on you."

With a small shake of her head, Alex turned her gaze off towards the escalator that Castiel had taken down to the first level of the mall. "That wasn't what the argument was about," she muttered, following after her mate and stepping onto the moving stairs. "Can you … can you just talk to him? I know he's used to confiding in you."

Dean's hand came to rest on her shoulder, a surprising gesture of comfort. "I'll see what I can do," he promised, and Alex looked up into his face, searching for any sign of dishonesty. "But if he wants to keep looking, I say let him."

"W-What?" Alex stepped off of the escalator, incredulity in her voice. "I thought you of all people would be on my side, Dean. You can't — you can't tell Cas to keep looking when you won't even let us look for your own cure!" She grabbed Dean's forearm, fingers digging into the Mark for emphasis, and the Winchester yanked himself free.

"There's no hope for me." His voice was dark, and he rolled down his sleeve to cover the Mark more thoroughly. "Demon deals can be broken. But this — we know nothing, and our only leads are either dead of burned. Even if we found something, we wouldn't be able to follow it because I'm out of time. I can't fight this anymore."

"Dean —"

"I'm being serious, Pip. The next little thing could set me off. I'm out of time, but you're not. There's still hope for you." Dean lengthened his stride, pulling ahead of the conversation, and Alex watched him disappear into the dark interior of Hot Topic in search of her mate. She could see the seraph inside, the bright tan of his coat seeming to glow in the dim light, and with a deep sigh, Alex followed after Dean.

...

 **A** lex shrugged off her jacket as she stepped out of the Impala, tossing it over her shoulder as she made her way across the parking lot of the Curtis Motor Motel. She heard the doors close behind Dean and Castiel as they followed, and the angel looked down at her phone to confirm the room number that Sam had texted her. Her grace snuck out tp simultaneously locate the Winchester's soul.

Castiel pulled ahead as she reached the line of rooms, and Alex let him rap on the door. She heard movement inside, and a few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Claire. Her eyes blinked in surprise at the sight of the seraph before hardening as they swung across Alex and Dean, but she wordlessly stepped aside to let them. "Are you alright?" Castiel asked, stepping over the threshold, and Alex slipped past him, crossing the room to stand next to Sam.

"Yeah, I will be when nobody ever asks me that again," she heard Claire snap, and Alex dropped down onto the bed beside Sam with a quiet greeting.

"Hey," Sam echoed back, closing his laptop as Dean entered, kicking the door closed behind them. "You guys were gone a long time. Did you find Ronnie?"

"Yeah." Dean's lips were pressed tightly together, and Alex watched his nostrils flare as he let out a frustrated breath at the memory. "Yeah, he gave us a name. Peter Holloway. Said he was a faith healer."

"So … what?" Sam asked, glancing down at Alex. "You thinking angel?"

"Maybe," Alex half-agreed, watching as Claire stomped across the room to drop down onto the other bed, "except he didn't heal everyone. It's almost … almost like he was feeding off half of them. Reaper?" she guessed. "I remember — you guys told me about that case where a faith healer was using a reaper to heal people, except he was killing others in their place."

"Yeah, but Ronnie said he actually saw Holloway cutting into them," Dean countered. "You can't see reapers unless they want you to."

"And reapers really don't get involved in messing with that sort of balance," Sam added, and Alex grunted in reluctant agreement. "Not on their own. Well, whatever's going on, it's definitely weird. I'll look into this Holloway guy."

He flipped open his laptop, and Alex's grace flicked as Castiel's eyes turned onto Claire. His wings pressed anxiously against his back, and his fingers tightened around the handle of the bag he was holding as he crossed over to the blonde teenager. "Claire, um … happy birthday."

Claire's eyebrows lifted in surprise, but she quietly accepted the bag. "Um …" She pulled out a small stuffed cat, and Alex watched how the seraph's wings flittered nervously.

"I got it at the Hot Topical," he explained when no other words came, and Alex stretched out her grace to push gently at his.

"Right." The teenager's eyes didn't leave the gift in her hands. "Uh, thanks, I guess." She pushed the toy back into the bag and dropped it down on the bed behind her, and the seraph's wings drooped slightly before straightening back up.

"Cas." Alex motioned him over with a flick of her wing, and the seraph slowly crossed the room to stand at her side, his own grace twisting against hers.

"Whoa." Sam's interruption stopped her from saying more, and the angel leaned away from her mate to see the computer screen. "Just got an alert from the local PD. Ronnie's body was just found outside of Susie's bar."

" _What_?" Claire was on her feet in an instant, eyes flashing in anger. "You were just supposed to talk to Ronnie. What did you do to him?"

Dean recoiled, surprised by the teen's anger. "I didn't lay a hand on him!" he retorted defensively, and Alex let out a loud scoff. "What?" he snapped. "I mean, I didn't _kill_ him!" He crossed his arms before uncrossing them and letting them fall to his side. "Alright, I'm gonna get suited up and head back over there."

"I'm coming with you," Castiel added, his voice sharp witn concern, and Alex pushed herself to her feet, ready to accompany them.

"I"m coming with you, too." Claire beat her to it, grabbing her jacket off of her bed as she hurried over to the door, and the angel hesitated, eyes narrowing angrily.

She waited, expecting Dean to snap, but the oldest hunter merely shrugged. "You want to get in on this?" he asked his brother.

"No. I-I should probably stay here and research Holloway." The bed creaked as Sam shifted on it, and Alex reluctantly took a seat back on the bed as Claire and Castiel left the room.

"I'll stay, too," she volunteered. "I think any more than three is a crowd, and I'm sure Sam can use the help." Dean's eyes flickered between the two of them, unconvinced, but once again, he just shrugged. He closed the door behind him, and Alex glanced over at Sam. "It _is_ okay if I stay, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Of course." Sam's eyes momentarily narrowed in confusion. "Everything okay? What — what exactly happened at the bar?"

"Dean's getting worse. He almost snapped with Ronnie, and when we stopped at the mall …" The angel trailed off with a shake of her head. "He says that he doesn't know what's going to set him off again." She turned on the bed so she could face Sam more fully. "Did Rowena say anything about how long it'll take to decode the Book?" When Sam shook her head, her shoulders slumped.

Sam's elbow bumped against her side, and the angel looked up into his worried face. "What else?" he prompted.

"Nothing related to Dean. Cas is definitely still looking to break my deal, though, and he's so … so _emotionless_ whenever I try to talk to him about it. How — how am I supposed to be mad at him when he won't even raise his voice?"

"Alex." Sam heaved a sigh, and the angel looked over at him in surprise. "You have to be careful with Cas, okay? Between heaven and Claire a-and hunting down your grace and now this … he's been through a lot, and you can't just bulldoze your way through him. Not until he gets some of his confidence back."

" _He's_ been through a lot?" Alex tugged angrily on her shirt sleeve, nostrils flaring. "What about me? I can't just tiptoe around him because he's handling things worse than I am." Sam frowned, and the angel pushed herself up off of the bed with a shake of her head. "Just — never mind. Let's just figure out where this Holloway character is, okay?"

...

 **T** he sound of the Impala's engine came from outside the motel walls, and Alex looked up from her laptop with a hum of surprise; she hadn't expected anyone to return for another half hour or so. "They're back," she announced, leaning back in her chair, and she tracked the three sets of footsteps as they approached, eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she tried to pick out the identify of each pair. The motel door opened to reveal Dean in front, Castiel and Claire close behind.

"Hey," Sam greeted as Dean stepped across the threshold. "I, uh, got a lead on Peter Holloway."

Dean dropped down into the chair across from Alex, and the angel closed her laptop. "Oh, good cause, uh, he's probably about to split town," he announced darkly. "Ronnie made a few calls before he got shish-kabobed."

"So he was stabbed," Alex concluded, and Dean answered with a nod. "So you think he maybe gave Holloway the heads up?" She drew her legs up onto her chair as Claire pushed past on her way to her things.

"If he did, that's probably what got him killed." Dean reached up to loosen his tie around his neck, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes. "So … we gotta track him down before he leaves."

"Great." Sam grimaced, and he pushed himself to his feet. "Well, according to county records, Holloway owns a farmhouse about thirty to forty miles from here, so I, uh, cross-referenced it with Amelia's credit card receipts." He crossed over to the far wall where Claire had pinned a local map of the county and pointed to the top right corner. "The house is right about here, and she's been hitting up Biggersons and Gas n' Sips all around the area."

"Probably staking the place out," Dean concluded, and Sam nodded.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Claire grabbed her jacket off of the bed, and Alex pushed herself to her feet, chair legs squealing against the floor. "Let's go."

"Claire, you are _not_ going out there." Castiel stepped forward to stop the teen from advancing towards the door.

Claire's face flashed with surprise before her eyes hardened, narrowing into chips of ice. "She's my mother."

Castiel's wings rose in agitation. "That house could be empty and it could be a trap," he warned, and his feathers bristled. "It's too dangerous. I can't let anything happen to you."

"Anything _else_ you mean." Claire's angry gaze swung around, searching for support from the others, but Alex merely pursed her lips.

"Claire, you're not going." The seraph's voice was firm and resolved, and Claire's lips pouted in frustrated agreeance. Dean grunted, pushing himself to his feet, but Castiel put a hand out to stop him. "You're not either, Dean."

Green eyes widened in surprise. "What? Is this — is this because of Ronnie?" When Castiel didn't respond, Dean squared his jaw. "Oh, come on, Cas. He wasn't gonna talk. I just … helped him talk."

"Dean, Cas is right." Sam crossed over to stand at Alex's side, who stretched out a wing to reassuringly flick Castiel's back. "We need to keep the Mark in check. And we don't know what's out there. You know, maybe you should … maybe you should stay here."

"So you wanna bench me again?"

"You really want to talk about benching?" Alex retorted. "Cause you seemed all for it when it comes to putting my on the sideline." She softened the anger in her tone when Dean recoiled slightly, surprised by her sting. "We just need to make sure that you're safe. That's why you're staying here."

Dean's eyes swept across the three of them, lingering on Castiel for a second longer. "Alright," he finally relented. "Fine. I'll stay and babysit. But if anything happens, anything at all …"

"Yes, we'll call you." Weariness weighed down Castiel's voice, and he pointed a finger towards Claire. "No fighting. That goes for both of you," he added when Dean scoffed. "We'll be back soon."

Dean rolled his eyes, but he reluctantly tossed his brother the keys to the car. Alex grabbed her jacket from off of the back of her chair as she hurried out the door. She felt Castiel follow, Sam close behind, and she slowed down to let them fall in step at her side. "Think they'll be okay?" She glanced over her shoulder back towards the motel where Dean and Claire remained. "Without a mediator, I mean."

"You want to stay behind?" Even through the darkness, Alex could see how Sam's eyebrow cocked.

"What? No. No way." The angel reached the back door and pulled it open with an urgent shake of her head. "I'm happy to be sitting at the big kids table." She slid into the back seat, and she heard two doors slam as both Sam and Castiel joined her in the Impala. The engine rumbled, and Alex reached for her seatbelt as the car took off down the road.

...

 **"S** am." Castiel's voice had Alex looking up from the window, where miles of cornfields had been passing them by. It was the first time the seraph had spoken since they had left the motel, and Alex pulled her feet up underneath her as Sam glanced over at her mate. "When this is over, should I … should I leave Claire alone?"

"What?" The Winchester's eyes flickered towards the empty road before returning to the seraph. "No, man. She's family — well, I-I mean, she's not exactly family, but she's close enough."

"Family's not about blood," Alex added in a quieter voice, and her eyes met Sam's through the rearview mirror.

"Exactly," he agreed. "It's not about blood. And I mean, the two of you have history. Simple as that."

Castiel lapsed back into silence, and Alex felt his grace twitch thoughtfully. "So, do you think she's better off on her own?" he asked after a moment's pause, and he shifted so his wings hung over the back of the seat, long feathers brushing against the floor.

"Cas, she just turned eighteen."

"You were eighteen when you left your family, weren't you?" Alex leaned forward slightly to catch the hunter's attention. She saw his face darken momentarily in confusion, but she cut him off before he could protest. "How is that any different?"

The Winchester paused to think before he heaved a sigh. "Here's all I know. Going on alone, that's no way to live." He glanced over towards Castiel. "You being there for her, even if she thinks she doesn't want you to be there for her, that's good for both of you."

"Maybe," Castiel agreed, "in the end."

"In the end." The Winchester's repeated words were softer, and the engine rumbled slightly as it turned off of the main road. "Hey. We're here." The emotion fell away into a brisk, business like time, and Alex straightened up her in seat as she tried to peer through the darkness.

An old wooden house sat against the horizon, and just behind it a barn. The headlights on the car died as Sam pulled off of the driveway, removing the keys and letting the engine die. "We'll head in on foot from here." He threw open the door, and Alex followed him out onto the dirt driveway, tugging at the patch of grace that was vibrating against the warm metal of her angel blade to make sure that it was still there. She felt Castiel stop beside her, one broken wing stretching out to gently rest against her back, and Alex let her wings fall slightly to let him shift closer.

"How do you want to divide this up?" she asked as Sam circled around to the trunk, and she watched as he pulled an angel blade out of the weapons hatch, shoving it into his jacket before he started loading his gun. "I'm good to roll solo if need be."

She felt Castiel turn to look over at the darkened home. "It looks abandoned," he admitted, and Alex grunted in reluctant agreement.

"Only one way to find out." Sam slammed the trunk shut, and Alex let him take the lead towards the property.

She let her grace sneak out curiously, but a flick of the wingtip against her shoulder had her drawing back. _Keep your grace close_. She heard Castiel's voice in her head, quiet despite the silent communication. _If we are hunting an angel, we don't want to give us away until we need to._ Alex gave a reluctant nod of agreement, and the seraph's wings pulled away to once again return to his side.

The dilapidated buildings grew closer, and Alex finally reached back to draw her weapon as Sam paused at the crossroads between the barn and the home. "Cas, you take the barn," he decided after a moment's thought. "I'll take the house." He pointed down the middle towards a small, dark building that sat near the edge of the property, the door hanging off of the hinges. "Alex, clear that and then come back and join Cas."

"Yes, sir." Alex slipped off through the grass, her tattered black feathers glowing silver in the moonlight. She kept her grace and wings drawn in close, feet silent on the overgrown lawn. The ramshackle structure was no bigger than a double-stall garage, and the angel let her eyes turn towards the edge of the field as she searched for movement. Dark trees lined the property, and even with her grace, Alex couldn't see far into the undergrowth.

She circled around the wooden building at first, securing the small perimeter before she stepped through the open door. Her grace shifted slightly to adjust her eyes to the newfound darkness, allowing her to see the empty room that lay in front of her. A loft sat above her head, illuminated by the moonlight that filtered through the slats, and Alex frowned as she crossed over to a small wooden barrel that sat against the far wall.

"I thought I felt angels." A voice from behind her had Alex spinning around, eyes flashing blue with grace. A stranger stood there, dark-skinned and well-groomed, and Alex's weapon flashed in the faint light. His own eyes glowed with grace, and his wings spread upwards in a display of intimidation. The feathers were intact, a thick gray that almost seemed to glow with a purple undertone in the faint moonlight. "What do you want?"

Alex lifted her own wings, tattered and thin in comparison, but her companion merely scoffed at the attempt. "Holloway, I presume," she countered. "What are you doing here? I thought all of the rebel angels had returned to heaven."

"I'm a Grigori," came the haughty response. "A watcher angel." The wings lifted higher, stretching out to show the size, and Alex tightened her grip on her weapon as Holloway took a step forward. "I do think I recognize you, though. _Enaaish_ , correct?"

 _He's a watcher_. Alex frowned at the title, unsure of what it meant. "I didn't realize there were any of you still alive," she admitted, chin lifted high.

The Grigori didn't seem to hear. "An Enaaish," he confirmed, and his grace crept forward to feel, leaving Alex to snap hers away in surprise. Trickles of her heat radiated outwards, dislodged by the sudden movement, and the Watcher's wings lifted, arching forward over his head. "Your kind has changed so much since you were created. No matter how much we tried, we could never quite … smooth down the edges."

His feet carried him another step forward, and Alex raised her weapon, her feathers bristling as she met his challenge. "Slow your roll," she warned. "That show of intimidation might have worked when I was wide-eyed and altricial, but not anymore. You don't scare me." Her eyes flickered towards the open door, barely visible over the Watcher's shoulders. "So why are you feeding on people, huh, Holloway? That seems a little .. I dunno, below our kind."

"Please. Call me Tamiel." The Grigori chuckled slightly. " 'Below our kind?' Do you know why my unit was sent to earth in the first place? We were in charge of the creation of the _Enaaish_. But what we found was much, much better." He stalked forward, and Alex circled around, careful to keep her distance. "Human souls … they are little slices of heaven and, if properly kept, are delicious meals that can last for _years_. Decades, even."

"Disgusting." Alex spat out the word, and her wings flapped twice in anger. "You're a monster, not an angel." She twisted her angel blade warily as Tamil produced his own weapon. It was long and thin like a sword, but even from where she stood, Alex could feel the warm hum of the metal.

The tip of the sword dipped down to point at the short blade in Alex's hands. "Don't bother. You don't have the strength, not with that." The Watcher's wings flicked scornfully, and he lifted the blade so Alex could see the Enochian letters carved into the underside of the blade. "Each of our names were inscribed onto our swords, and each weapon only recognizes its owner."

"You talk like there's more of you." Alex's feet edged her back towards the door, but she kept her eyes focused on the Grigori.

"There were hundreds of us, a brotherhood of perfectly crafted, engineered beings to protect you pathetic, bottom-feeding disasters. But now …"

"Alex!" Castiel's yell cut into the Watcher's soliloquy, and Alex took the opportunity to bolt. Her feet carried her out the door and across the silver field, her wings flapping behind her in a fruitless attempt to propel her faster. She could see her mate standing in between the barn and the home, his wings raised in concern, and she reached into the back her mind to see through his mind. She could see herself, and the old building behind her, but there was no sign of the Grigori.

Relief pulsed through her, and Alex slowed to a jog as she reached the seraph. Her eyes turned up onto the figure who stood beside him, noticing the new arrival for the first time, and all thoughts of the Watcher momentarily fled. "The hell are you doing here?" she snapped up at Dean. "We told you to stay behind."

"Yeah, well, we didn't." Dean's eyes hardened at her sharp words. "I know what killed Ronnie. We're hunting a —"

"Grigori." Alex and Dean spoke the name at the same time. "Yeah, I know. Tamiel. I met him back there." Her wings flicked back towards the rickety wooden structure. "And he's got some sort of pointy —"

"Sword," Dean finished, and Alex nodded. "Yeah. Where's Sam?"

"Uh, the house." Alex took off towards the home at a brisk pace. She felt the two men follow behind her, and her feathers ruffled uneasily she stretched out her grace ahead of her in search of the Winchester. "Sam?" She pushed her way through the kitchen door that was left ajar. "Sam!"

"Are you sure if was Grigori?" she heard Castiel ask of Dean as they followed close on her heels, his voice sharp with concern and disbelief. "They — they were some of the first angels on Earth, an elite unit gone bad. But they're extinct. They were _destroyed_."

"Well, I guess some of them weren't. Sam!" Alex lifted her voice as she shouted the hunter's name.

"Alex?" Footsteps pounded in the stairs as Sam rushed from the upstairs, his gun half-raised. "Dean?" His eyes widened in surprise as they flickered between Dean and Castiel. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to get out of here." Alex turned back to Dean with a tight frown. "Where's Claire? Did you leave her in the car?"

"No. We left her in the barn with her mom —" Dean cut off, and he and Castiel exchanged looks of realization and concern before they bolted out the door. Alex followed with a curse, almost slipping on the damp grass as she jumped off of the porch. Sam surpassed her, his long legs carrying him across the ground. Alex pushed herself further. She heard a scream cut through the night, sharp with panic, and somehow the young angel managed to surpass the taller Winchester.

Tamiel was in the barn, his weapon raised. Claire was before him, down on the ground with a woman held tightly in her lap. Even from where she stood, Alex could smell the scent of blood and death. "Mom!" Claire clutched at her mother's shirt, holding her close, and her cries were nearly drowned out by Castiel's vehement, "No!"

The Watcher barely turned in time to catch side of the seraph's attack, and the two fell to the floor in a tussle of arms and legs. The Grigori prevailed, knocking Castiel away, and his sword flashed in the moonlight as he raised it to strike. "Hey!" Alex's wings flared up, and her grace exploded outwards in a controlled spiral. Tamiel stumbled backwards with a curse of surprise, and that moment of hesitation gave Castiel enough time to roll out of the way. Sam wrapped his arms around Tamiel as he tried to restrain him, and the Watcher grunted in surprise as Dean rushed past, scooping up Castiel's fallen weapon.

Tamiel jammed an elbow back into Sam's chest, wings flaring out in anger as he freed himself, and he ducked beneath a blow from Dean and threw his shoulder into the Winchester's stomach. The force sent him flying backwards, and Alex sidestepped as Dean landed on the barn floor next to her. She twisted her weapon in her hands as she placed herself between the Watcher and Dean, and she let her grace rise up to her eyes in a show of intimidation. "Stop." She held out a hand to keep the Grigori back.

"Get out of my way, or I'll kill you first." Tamiel's grace rushed outwards, and Alex grit her teeth as she fought against the onslaught. It wrapped around her, dragging her closer, and the angel dug in her heels, flapping her wings to try and resist.

Suddenly, the grace pulled back in alarm, and Alex stumbled back as Tamiel's face lit up in a flash of bright, white light. His wings exploded into flames as he collapsed to the ground, revealing a shaking Claire, an angel blade in her hands. The blonde teenager's hands trembled, and the weapon fell as Claire dropped down back onto the ground next to her mother. "Mom?" Claire pulled Amelia back into her lap, and Alex glanced around to check on the Winchesters, trying to ignore the teenager's sobs. "Mommy, p-please stay with me, okay? Mom?"

Dean was pushing himself back to his feet, rubbing his head, and Castiel stood by his side, his face twisted in pain as he watched Claire. Alex could feel the panic and horror resonating within his grace, and Alex grit her teeth at the teen's sobs. "Claire." Something set in, something deep, something instinctual, and Alex crossed the barn to crouch down at Claire's side, wings curling forward to wrap around the teen. "Claire, she … she's gone."

"No. No no no no." Claire rocked her mother in her arms, head tucked into Amelia's hair.

"I'm sorry." Alex placed her hand on her shoulder, and the teen leaned into her warm touch with another stifled sob. "I'm sorry, Claire. There's nothing we can do." The hand moved upwards to rest against her hair, pulling her close. A wing tip brushed across her back, and Alex shifted out of the way so Castiel could take her place at Claire's side, his broken wings curling around his vessel's daughter. Dean's movement caught in the corner of her eye, and she turned to watch the Winchester throw the dead angel's body over his shoulder. Sam moved after his brother, casting a sympathetic look back towards Claire and, with a sigh, Alex followed, leaving Castiel and Claire to grieve alone.

...

 **A** lex leaned back against the Impala, hands shoved deep into her pocket as she watched the people in front of her. Sam and Castiel stood off to the side, head bowed in conversation with the seraph's wings were pressed tightly against his back. Every few seconds his eyes would flicker over towards Dean and Claire; they were standing beside the curb, and Alex resisted stretching out her grace to overhear their conversation. She could see the teen's duffle bag laying at her feet, the zipper undone, and she narrowed her eyes to better see what lay inside. Castie's gift was tucked near the top, the dark tail of the cat hanging out of the top, and beneath it lay the hilt of Tamiel's sword.

The sight shouldn't have been surprising; Alex had seen the teen place it into the car last night before leaving the farm, but finding it smuggled in Claire's suitcase had her pushing herself off of the Impala. Surely Dean had seen it — he had been the one that had opened the bag in the first place.

A taxi appeared from around the corner, and Alex tugged on Castiel's grace to alert him of the car's presence. She felt the flash of his surprise as he turned to face it, and Dean knelt down to zip back up the bag before he handed it to Claire. "Ride's here," she heard him say, and Castiel left Sam's side to join Dean at Claire's side.

"Um, Claire." The seraph awkwardly cleared his throat, eyes flickering over towards the taxi that had stopped in front of them. "If you, um, if you … need anything ever, I'm … I … just wanted you to know that …" He trailed off as Claire pulled him into a quick hug, and Castiel's dark wings fluttered in relief.

Alex came to stop at his side as Claire pulled away, and she forced a smile when their eyes met. "Take care of yourself," she offered as the teen adjusted her bag across her shoulder. "Like Cas said, we'll be here if you need anything, but Jody Mills is a good person. You can trust her."

"Thanks." Claire's teeth flashed in a small grin, and she looked back at Castiel one more time before she turned away, sliding into the backseat of the cab. Alex stretched out a wing to brush against her mate's as the car disappeared down the road.

"Someone just tell me she's gonna be okay." The seraph's soft words surprised her, and Alex reached down to take his hand, squeezing tightly in reassurance.

"She'll be fine," she promised, her voice a low murmur. "Jody will take care of her." She glanced over her shoulder to see Sam and Dean standing next to the Impala, and she let her hand fall away from his. "Looks like it's time to hit the road again." Alex turned back to watch the cab disappear down the road before turning her body away. "Any, uh … any idea when I'll see you again?"

Castiel didn't respond, his eyes fixated on the horizon over which Claire had disappeared, and he only tore his gaze away when Alex prompted him with a flick of her wing. "I — no," he admitted. "Actually, I was hoping that you would stay with me." His grace pressed up against hers, and Alex let it swirl through her body, warming her veins. "With your heat starting, and with Claire … with Claire …" He trailed off, unable to finish his thought. "I was hoping that you would stay," he finally finished.

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure." Alex's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly brought them back down. "Let me go get my stuff." She waited for Castiel to nod before she hurried back towards Sam and Dean. The Winchester's conversation died as she approached, and Alex tapped on the top of the trunk. "Open up, I need my stuff. I'm staying with Cas."

"What?" Sam's noise of surprise left his mouth before he could stop it, and Alex glanced up at him, an eyebrow cocked as she waited for a further explanation. "It's just, you know, I thought you guys had a pretty rough patch yesterday."

"And now we're good." Alex tapped her foot impatiently before sending her grace out to unlock the trunk. "Don't worry about it, okay?" She grabbed her backpack out from beside Dean's bag and slammed the trunk behind her. "Call if you need anything. _Anything_ ," she added with a pointed glance over at Dean.

"Sure thing." Sam held out an arm, and Alex stepped into a quick side hug, pressing her head against the hunter's solid chest. "Have fun."

Alex nodded, and she shot Dean a small wave before she crossed the parking lot to stand beside her mate. "Alright, what's the plan?" She heard the Impala's doors slam shut as the Winchesters got inside, and she glanced over towards the gold Continental. "Should we …?"

"I was thinking that we could stay here." Castiel's blue eyes turned back towards the line of motel rooms, and Alex frowned at she followed his gaze. "The room has been paid for until the end of the week."

Alex adjusted her bag on her shoulder as she followed her mate back towards the motel room. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that the Impala was already halfway down the road, and, with a sigh, she stepped through the door. Castiel followed, his wings brushing against hers, and Alex felt her heat swirl within her chest. She dropped her bag down onto the table and shrugged of her jacket, grey eyes watching her mate carefully.

Castiel dropped down on the nearest bed, and his wings stretched out behind him. "Did I do the right thing?" He looked up, and Alex folded her jacket across the back of the chair as she crossed over to him. "Was I right to send Claire off on her own?"

"She's not going off on her own." Alex dropped down behind him with a small click of her tongue. "She's going to Jody, and Jody will look after her." She ran her fingers along his wings, feeling the hard edges of the charred feathers that covered yellowed bone. The seraph grunted in pain as she brushed across a patch of burnt flesh, and Alex pulled away with a hummed apology.

"I know." Castiel reached back to grab her hand and pull her forward, and Alex wrapped her arms around his waist, cheek pressed against his neck. "But was it right to send her away? Maybe … maybe I should have gone with her." His wings flattened, allowing her to press closer, and Alex let her own broken wings curl around him. "It's my fault that Amelia's dead, after all."

Alex scoffed, her lips brushing against his shoulder. "It's not your fault," she retorted. "It was Tamiel who killed her."

"Because she was looking for me." Castiel slumped forward, planting his elbows on his knees as he sighed. "She and Claire were my responsibility."

"Cas." The name left her lips as a whine, and Alex slipped under his arms to straddle his lap. "You know who else is your responsibility? Me." She pressed a kiss on his jaw, trying to draw his full attention onto her. "I'm a few days from going into heat, and as far as my grace is concerned, it hasn't mated in a _really_ long time." She curled her wings forward, pressing forward as her lips sought his, but all they found was a cheek as the seraph turned his head away.

"Maybe I should have driven her myself," he continued, and Alex pulled away with a discouraged noise. "It's a long way to Sioux Falls —"

Alex pushed herself back to her feet, barely holding back a frustrated huff. "How's the food holding up?" She yanked open the mini fridge to peer inside, unsurprised to find it empty. "Great."

She pulled away, turning around to find Castiel behind her. "I can make this right," he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. "For you and for her. Just — just give me a chance."

Alex felt her heat swell up, and she shoved it back down with a snap of her grace. "I'm sorry about Amelia, but Claire is going somewhere safe," she began, doing her best to keep the bite out of her voice. "And you can only fix one of us at a time." She pushed past her mate to grab her jacket off of the chair. "I'm going out to get provisions while you decide who you want to help first. Either be here for me, or get the hell out and I'll manage on my own."

Castiel's eyes widened, and Alex's wings fell, immediately regretful of her harsh tone. "I'll be here when you return." The seraph crossed the room to sit back down on the bed. "I can call Claire tomorrow when she arrives." His eyes fell onto the motel floor, and with a scowl, Alex stalked out of the door.

..

..

* * *

 **ahhh this chapter was a mess I'm sorry. When can season 10 be over so I can write Lucifer again?**


	20. Dark Dynasty

**June 29th, 2015**  
 **Tulsa, Oklahoma**

 **A** lex leaned back against the motel bed, planting her feet on the thin, worn carpet as she stifled a groan. Her heat swirled within her, an unforgiving itch that refused to be scratched, and the angel spread her wings out further to try and alleviate some of the discomfort. She reached out for her mate, following the thin strand of their joined grace across the room, and she tugged sharply, letting her heat bleed outwards.

"Alex." Alex drew back at Castiel's chastising word, and she let out a frustrated whine, craning her head back to catch sight of the seraph. He was seated at the small motel table, his eyes focused on the phone in front of him. "You have to wait."

"Why?" Alex pressed her cheek up against the scratchy motel comforter with a groan. "Claire can wait. She — she's probably not going to call anyways. You're wasting your time." She placed a hand on her stomach as her grace momentarily rose up against her will, stretching out towards Castiel.

"I need to know that she's okay," came the tempered response. "When we last spoke, Claire promised that she would call me tonight."

"That was _days_ ago. She — she's probably forgotten. Or she doesn't even care." Alex drew her grace back in, straining her wings to stretch them out across the floor before she pushed herself to her feet with a huff. "She's not going to call, Cas. Get that through your thick skull."

She took two steps towards her mate before she stopped as Castiel rose from his chair. "I should go call Jody," he decided, snatching up his phone. Alex pushed her grace up against his, forcing him to feel her discomfort, but the only sign that he noticed her heat was the faint twitching of his wings.

He stepped forward, but Alex blocked him, her own wings flaring up in anger as her feathers bristled outwards. "Hey," she snapped. "What about me, huh?"

"Your heat is almost over." Castiel's wings spread outwards, kept low in an attempt to appease her, and the tips folded forward to brush against her side. "You can wait another five minutes."

He pushed past Alex, and the angel scowled after him as he stepped out of the room. It closed behind him and, with a angered huff, Alex snapped out her grace to lock it. She shoved the heat back down inside of her as she flopped down onto the bed, stifling a groan of frustration and disappointment at the ache in her bones.

She wasn't' sure how long she lay there, but she lifted her head when the door unlocked and swung open. "Well?" Alex begrudgingly pushed herself up into a sitting position as the seraph entered the room, tucking his phone into the pocket of his pants. "What'd she tell you?"

"Claire's fine." The mattress sagged as Castiel sat down at the foot of the bed, and against her better judgement, Alex shifted closer to lean up against his arm, purring at the warm contact. "She's settling in well with Jody and Annie."

"Give her some time, and Jody will whip her into shape," the angel promised as Castiel's broken wings shifted out of the way, curling around her shoulder to allow her to press closer. "She's in good hands." Alex pushed herself into Castiel's lap, resting her knees on either side of his hips as her wings curled down and around him. "Now, can we finally forget about her?"

Her jaw clenched at the faintest hint of hesitance in the seraph's eyes, but before she could snap, her phone rang, breaking into their conversation. Alex pulled her head back, searching for the source as she ignored Castiel's soft, "It's not mine."

Her wings flapped as she pushed herself to her feet, the ragged feathers and bones doing little to steady her as she crossed the room to her phone that lay discarded on the ground. Sam's name was flashing across the screen in white letters, and Alex dropped down onto the other bed as she answered. "Hey, Sam. What's up?"

"Uh, nothing much," came the measured response. "I've been good. How are you and Cas?"

"Peachy." Alex did her best to repress a pointed glance in the direction of her mate. "Sorry, what I meant was, what do you want? I haven't heard from you in days."

Her sharpened tone had the Winchester hesitating, and Alex drew in a deep breath to calm herself down. "I thought I'd give the two of you some space," Sam admitted, his voice on the brink of an apology, and Alex grunted, finally lifting her eyes towards Castiel. He was watching her closely, his wings held placidly against his back, but the faint light in his eyes revealed his interest. "Is Cas there? I just need to ask a favor about you-know-what —"

"Yeah, he's here, but it's okay. He knows about Rowena and the Book." Alex felt Castiel's grace shift as she spoke those words, creeping upward through her chest, and she let him in to listen through her ears to Sam's words. "Did something happen? Did she crack the Book yet?"

"No." Sam's voice was a mixture of frustration and despondence. "Either she's stalling, or she's flat-out refusing to help. So I, uh, I called in Charlie to see if some of her software can maybe crack the codex instead. Do you think you can swing down here to help? I'd appreciate the extra hand."

"Sure thing." Alex pushed herself to her feet, not bothering to look for acquiescence from her mate. "We can be there in three hours if we make good time. I'll meet you at the distillery." She waited for Sam's agreement before she hung up, pushing down her heat as she crossed the room to grab her bags. "You heard the man," she announced, shoving her phone into the side pocket of her bag. "Get your things, it's time to go."

The mattress creaked as Castiel rose, and his grace pushed against hers in concern. "Are you sure?" he pressed. "If you need —"

"I'm fine." Alex brushed off his concern, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Like you said, my heat's almost over. I'll be fine." She grabbed the Continental's keys off of the table, shaking them in the air in an attempt to spur the seraph onwards. "Let's go."

...

 **Topeka, Kansas**

 **A** lex pulled the Lincoln Continental up alongside the faded brick building of the abandoned James Brothers' distillery, her wings flicking in distaste at the cold itch of the protection sigils that decorated the stone. Castiel shifted beside her, mimicking her frown, and Alex tossed him the keys as she stepped out of the car. "This is it?" she heard the seraph ask, following, and Alex grunted in agreement.

"This is the place," she confirmed, glancing at the black sedan that sat around the corner, parked in front of a silver Volkswagen. "Sam said he'd be here by now, so we can just head on in." She stretched her grace out ahead of her, trying to feel the souls inside, but the red-painted wardings stopped her from exploring the interior.

"Did Sam say why he requested your help?" Castiel followed her through the doors, and Alex heard the sound of his feathers rustle uncomfortably as the wardings pressed down upon them. "This is where you're keeping Rowena, correct?"

"Yup. And no, he wasn't very clear. I think he just needs someone to keep an eye on things. You know, facilitate." Alex jumped down the stairs, lifting her voice as the Winchester came into view. "Hey, Sam." She waved over at him with a small smile, a grin that faded as her eyes turned towards the red-headed witch. "Rowena."

"Alex? Cas?" A new voice came from the corner, and Alex spun around, wings lifting in pleasant surprise. "Are you in on this, too?"

"Charlie! Hey." Alex's grin returned tenfold before she quickly turned back to Sam. "You didn't mention that she was physically going to be here. What's going on?"

"Rowena hasn't made any progress on the Book of the Damned." The disdain on Sam's face was clear, but he kept his tone as neutral as he could. "Apparently the codex is written in, uh, in code. Yeah," he agreed when Alex's face screwed up in confusion. "But luckily, Charlie has the tech that'll speed up cracking Nadya's codex. And you and Cas — you have the, uh … spiritual muscles that'll help safeguard the work."

"Safeguard it from what?" Rowena lifted her voice, her accent thick and regal, and Alex rolled her eyes as she turned back towards the witch.

Sam frowned, doing the same. "You," he admitted bluntly. "I can't be here full time to referee."

"Whoa, whoa." This time, it was Castiel who interrupted, and his wings rose in surprise and indignation. "And I can? Sam, I don't have time for this. I have to find Alex …" He trailed off, turning to her, and Alex's feathers bristled at his accusatory gaze. "Is this why you brought me here? To keep me from searching for a cure?"

"It's not a cure because I'm not sick," Alex spat before quickly lowering her voice. "And, no, I didn't know this. You think I want to be stuck here, either?" She turned up to Sam, head tipped. "Why do you need us all of sudden? I thought we were fine just leaving her here."

"I was. But now with Charlie …" Sam glanced over his shoulder towards the corner in which Charlie sat. "I just someone with experience to keep an eye on them, make sure nothing happens." He looked over at Castiel, his face twisting slightly in a plea. "Please? Please do this for me."

The falling of Castiel's shoulders signaled his reluctant acceptance. "Well, what are the rules?" he gruffly asked, stepping forward to stand at Alex's side. "If I'm going to referee, I should at least know them."

"Quite literal, aren't you?" Rowena quipped, and Alex rolled her eyes. "Does he know that the first rule is don't tell your brother what we're doing?"

"Wait …" Anger momentarily flashed in Castiel's gaze before he suppressed it, his features falling back into their expressionless state. His voice, however, didn't lose any of its sharp quality. "Dean doesn't know? Sam, this _never_ ends well."

"That's exactly what I said," Charlie agreed from her table, and Castiel flicked a wing in her direction to show his support.

"Okay, everyone take a deep breath." Sam's face tightened, and he spread out his hands to calm everyone down. "Look, we're up against it, okay? And we've all been up against it before, and we know there are times when every choice sucks. Now, us … lying to Dean … is the choice that sucks the least. We have to make this work."

"If Dean knew, he would shut this down before we got the chance to say another word," Alex agreed, crossing her arms as she spoke. "He's given up, so if we have any chance of helping him, it's without him knowing."

She looked over at Charlie, searching for support, and the woman gave a small nod of understanding. "Okay, yeah," she agreed. "For Dean."

A small smile graced Sam's eyes, and he turned to Castiel. The seraph stood there, lips pursed, but his frustration diminished when Alex prompted him with a push of her grace. "Okay," he agreed, his tone gruff and reluctant. "For Dean."

"For Dean," Sam echoed.

Alex glanced over her shoulder towards Rowena, and the witch lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "I barely know the man."

"And that's probably for the best," Alex finished, and she let her arms fall back down to the side, relieved to find that both Charlie and Castiel were back on their side. "Okay, great. Thank you." She nodded over to Charlie, simultaneously pressing her grace up against Castiel's in a silent form of appreciation. She pulled away a second later, turning up to Sam. "Listen, if you need to get going …"

"Yeah, uh, yeah. Thank you so much." Sam clapped her on the shoulder, squeezing gently. "You know what to do, right?"

"Yeah, I think I got the gist. Stick around, keep the peace." Alex gestured towards the stairs that led towards the outside, adding, "Come on. I'll walk you to your car."

She led the way out of the building, Sam close at her heels. "How was your drive?" he asked, his long legs quickly bringing him to her side. "You didn't sound to happy on the phone." He paused beside the black sedan with a frown. "Everything okay with you and Cas? You guys were radio silent."

Alex toed at a rock, momentarily squaring her jaw. "No," she finally admitted, glancing off towards the abandoned distillery. "I was in heat." She watched as Sam's face twisted in concern, and she quickly added, "No, no, don't worry. It wasn't like what you're thinking. I guess I've matured enough as an angel that heats are just discomfort, even … even without Lucifer's grace. Which was fucking good because Cas certainly didn't do shit to help." Her frustrations boiled over, and Alex's wings flapped twice in anger. "He's too distracted by Claire a-and by saving me, and —"

She cut herself off, letting out an angry breath through her nose to quell her vexation. "Oh." Sam's concern and sympathy deepened, and he took a step closer. "Listen, I know you know this, but if you need anything, you just have to give me a call, okay? I mean, you know Dean and I will drop anything to help."

He put a hand on her shoulder, and Alex leaned into the touch, her grace swirling happily at the contact. "Yeah, I know," she murmured. "There's just not much you guys can do to help with this, you know? Sticking with Cas — that was my best option." She pulled away, shaking out her wings. "Anyways, sorry. You need to get going. Tell Dean hi for me, okay? And keep me in the loop."

"Yup." Sam dug around in his pockets for the keys as he nodded. "Keep them in line, okay?"

"Will do, Winchester." Alex shot him a mock-salute, and she watched Sam climb into the car. The car sped off towards the main road, and, with a drawn out sigh, the young angel stepped back into the distillery to return to her mate.

...

 **T** he faint light of the setting sun barely made it through the yellowed panes of the distillery windows, and Alex rolled her head back, stifling an exasperated noise as she leaned back in her chair. A quick glance down at her phone showed it to be almost nine in the evening, and the angel let her chair legs fall back onto the concrete floor with a loud clang.

The noise disturbed Charlie, who looked up from her computer, blinking to let her sore eyes adjust, but Rowena didn't stir. She sat at the table across from Alex, silently working her way through the codex. A plate of chicken bones lay forgotten beside her, remnants of the witch's dinner.

Alex dug into her bag for her laptop, clearing her throat to break the silence. "It's a bit too quiet in here, don't you think?" she started, dropping her laptop onto the table. She brushed some of Rowena's work out of the way, watching her closely in hopes of a response. "How about some working music?"

She pulled up her music list, scrolling through in search of a suitable album, and as the first few notes thrummed through the speaker, Rowena finally lifted her head. "You call that music?" The witch scoffed loudly, and Alex's grey eyes flashed in the fading light. "I've heard more melodious sounds from the backend of a pig."

"Colorful." Alex cranked up the volume over the woman's complaints. "Sorry, but they didn't have any 15th century ritualistic chants, so I thought Five Finger Death Punch would have to do."

"You could play Chuck Berry or the Beach Boys," Charlie suggested from her table, and Alex looked up with a lifted eyebrow. "Although, I've always worked best to Katrina and the Waves."

Alex frowned, but she reluctantly reached down to change the music. "Okay, point taken, we need thinking music. Metallica it is." She dropped down at her seat as Rowena's groan deepened, not even bothering to hide her smirk, and she glanced over at Castiel in hope of support.

The seraph was nowhere in sight, and Alex felt her grin falter. Of course; he had run out to grab snacks almost twenty minutes ago. "You know," Rowena began, and Alex preemptively rolled her eyes, preparing herself for another round of criticism, "the only good year for music was in 1723. After that …" The witch let out a wistful sigh. "It's all been downhill, if you ask me."

"Huh. Well, I didn't, so …" Alex batted away a chicken bone flung idly in her direction, grey eyes flashing in surprise and vexation. "Watch it, Hocus Pocus. I'm not above smiting you yet."

Her answer came in the form of another chicken bone, and Alex pushed herself to her feet, wings flaring out in aggravation, but before she could utter a word, Charlie heaved a frustrated sigh. "Dammit."

"That miraculous machine of yours hasn't solved everything by now?" Rowena rose to her feet with a false smile, faking a cough of amusement. "Overrated, I'd say."

"I'm using the computer to find some pattern in the book's coding or any synchronicity with the symbols in Nadya's codex," Charlie retorted, his displeasure clear as the witch crossed over to sit down across from her.

"Oh, I'm more old-school." If Rowena noticed the disdain, she simply ignored it. "I read the signs nature shows me … the forces that ruled before there was man. Or angel," she added, shooting a sly glare over her shoulder when Alex scoffed.

"Wow." Charlie's voice was scathing as she finally looked up from her table, and Alex snagged a chicken bone off of the witch's plate. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Alex emphasized the Charlie's words by flinging the bone at Rowena, but it never hit its target, snatched from the air by Castiel's hands. The seraph frowned over at Alex, his expression disapproving and quizzical, and Alex shrugged her shoulders as an explanation. "Okay, it sounds like blood sugar is dipping in here," he announced, dropping the bone to the ground as he lifted up a plastic bag. "I got snacks." He placed the bag onto the table beside Charlie, and the two redheads turned their attention onto him, both wearing nearly identical expressions. "When I was human, I grew very fond of these pork rinds."

Charlie eagerly pulled out the snacks, but Rowena merely turned up her nose with a sniff of disgust. Castiel turned away, disinterested in the witch's opinions, and Alex's chair scraped against the floor as she pushed it back to sit down and throw her feet up onto the table. "So, what do you know about the person who wrote the Book?" she prompted, crossing her arms as her wings balanced her on her seat.

Her question was initially met with silence, but it didn't take long for Rowena to give in. "Agnes was a hermit nun," she reluctantly explained, "and as mad as a hatter. Made it her business to undo curses."

"Like the one that caused the Mark of Cain," Castiel expounded, and Rowena answered with a nod.

"As in any struggle between good and evil, balance is required," she agreed. "To cure one curse, Agnes had to know how to inflict another. They live side-by-side in the magic world. One cannot be without the other."

"Sure, sure." Understanding lightened Charlie's face, and Alex pushed herself to her feet to cross over to the other table. "Like, uh, a binary system." Her eyes dropped down to her screen, her brow furrowed in concentration. "So, I've got to think like a hermit nun."

"Did I mention they burned her alive?"

" 'They'?" Charlie looked back up at Rowena, who smiled to find she once again had a captive audience.

"A cornucopia of curses and satanic visions did not go unnoticed by the church hierarchy," the witch lamented, and Alex stifled a roll of her eyes at her dramatic tone. "These men would not abide a rogue nun."

"Poor Agnes." Sympathy lined Charlie's voice, and Alex dropped down on the corner of the table, her eyes narrowing as she tried to detect whether the feeling was genuine. "Ahead of her time."

Rowena let out a small hum, eyes closing momentarily in a show of agreement. "Much like you and I," she added, and Alex's feathers lifted slightly in surprise.

Her displeasure was mimicked by Castiel, his grace shifting through the air, and his mouth parted as if he wanted to speak, but he fell silent when Charlie answered first. "I actually don't … see our similarities all that much," she admitted, the sympathy falling away to hard distaste.

"Because you're young and good and I'm ancient and evil?" Rowena let out a quiet laugh. "Is that it?"

"What …?"

"Let me tell you about you." Rowena leaned forward, a glint of knowledge in her blue eyes. "A difficult and lonely childhood. Tragedy, abusive parents. Always outside the mainstream. Sexually progressive. Living in your own head for solace and direction."

"Congratulations." The table creaked under Alex's weight as she leaned back on it, and Rowena lifted her head to meet the angel's gaze. "You've just about described over half of the people in this generation." She jerked her head off towards Charlie, adding, "You two are still pretty damn different."

Rowena laughed again, unperturbed by Alex's remark, and the angel pursed her lips together in a frown. "I read you the minute I saw you." She turned back to Charlie with a small, petty smile. "And I'm sure you're learning the line between good and evil is quite flexible." Blue eyes flickered across Alex, and the angel's face darkened, unsure of the witch's insinuations on her behalf. "But we part company when it comes to blind devotion. Case in point … the Winchesters. You've made them the family you don't have. Foolish."

Charlie's eyes darkened, and she straightened up in her seat. "Sam and Dean are like my brothers," she insisted. "I love them."

"I know. And that steadfast loyalty will be your undoing, my girl." Rowena pulled back away, her eyes glittering, and Charlie pushed her tablet closed as she rose to her feet.

"Cas, can I speak to you?" she asked, and the seraph's wings twitched in concern at the tightness to her voice. "Alone?" Charlie didn't wait for an answer before she stalked out of the room, and Alex watched her go with a lifted eyebrow.

Castiel followed on the woman's heels, and Rowena leaned back in her chair, studying her nails in the dim light. "You don't think I was too harsh on the wee lass, do you?" the witch asked, pulling a nail file out of her pocket; there was no doubt that she could feel Alex's glare, but she chose to ignore it, her attention fully on managing her nails.

Alex pushed herself off of the table and returned to her chair across the room, shaking her head as she reached into the back of her mind. She could see Charlie through Castiel's eyes, and she emersed herself into her mate's senses as she sank down into her seat. "— best, but with her criticizing, breathing down my neck, trying to sign me up for team witch — oh, oh, and the moaning how the one good year for music was 1723?" Alex felt a faint pulse of surprise from the seraph in the midst of Charlie's rant, but he stayed quiet, letting her finish. "I … I … I am going crazy. I mean, she is evil."

"She is a wicked witch, so by definition …" Castiel began, hesitant and unsure with how to respond, but Charlie jumped in before he could finish his thought.

"No, no, no, I mean something bad is going to happen here. Castiel, man, just — just spring me for two hours, one hour … anyplace quiet. Dean is my buddy, and I _cannot_ screw this up, but … but my mind is … is …" The woman shook her head, searching for an appropriate analogy. "It's a wad of gummy worms. Please."

Castiel feel silent, and Alex could feel the conflict waging in his mind. "I'll call Sam," he finally decided, and his wings curled forward in an unseen gesture of solace. "He'll know what's best. Do you think you can wait until I can talk with him?"

Charlie's shoulders fell, unable to argue with the seraph's gentle words. "Yeah," she reluctantly agreed, her anger dispensed now that her rant was through. "Yeah, I think I can manage." Her blue eyes turned up onto the seraph's face as she smiled grimly. "Thanks, Cas."

"Of course." Castiel stepped aside to let Charlie through, and Alex felt his grace brush against hers, a silent sign that he knew she was watching. With a sigh, the angel let her attention drift back to the room in front of her. Rowena hadn't moved, the rhythmic, quiet grit of her file the only sound apart from her breathing, and Alex turned her attention down onto the Book of the Damned that lay open in front of her as she awaited Charlie and Castiel's reappearance.

Footsteps echoed on the stairs as Charlie returned, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she snatched her tablet off of the table. Castiel followed after her, returning to his spot against the wall as Charlie stalked away from the witch and dropped down at the table across from Alex. The seraph crossed his arms, settling into his spot, and Alex tugged curiously at his grace. _I thought you were going to call Sam. Do you want me to?_

Blue eyes darted over to her, and the seraph's wings twitched in acknowledgement of her question. _He's with Dean right now, he explained. I attempted to call him fifteen minutes ago, but Dean answered his phone. I'll try again in a bit._

Chains clinked as Rowena rose to her feet, and the angel's wings flapped twice as the witch crossed over to them, her toes nudging at Alex's seat. "Do you mind?" she asked. "I have a job to do." With a roll of her eyes, Alex pushed herself to her feet, and Rowena sat down with a satisfied smirk, drawing her books close to her. "Has your machine come up with anything useful?" she asked of Charlie, drawing a finger down the middle of the page.

Charlie's face was set in stone, and she didn't look up from her work. "Let me focus."

"The greatest witches of history have sought my counseling." Rowena drew herself up regally, indignation in her eyes, and Alex rolled her head back as she crossed over to lean against the wall beside her mate. "Yet you spurn me when I offer myself as a collaborator?"

Castiel stalked off towards the stairs, reaching into his pocket for his phone, and Alex stretched her grace out to hear through his ears as he dialed Sam's number. "Sam, we have a problem," he began as soon as the Winchester answered. "I can't — Charlie says she can't stay here to work. Not with Rowena like this." He glanced over his shoulder to the bickering redheads, the pain in his expression clear. "She says she needs a few hours to herself."

"What?" Surprise lined the Winchester's voice. "No. No, Cas. She can't."

"I don't think I'm making myself clear." Castiel lifted his voice to be heard above Charlie's sudden exclamation of anger; Alex heard the furious tone, but the words were lost on her, her attention too focused on Castiel's conversation. "I've got a … I've got a situation here."

"There's no way Charlie can go off by herself," Sam insisted, and Alex could tell from the firmness in his tone that the Winchester refused to budge. "Cas, there are dangerous people looking for her."

"Fine." The seraph ground his teeth before he set his jaw. "I'll go with her."

"No, you … you can't leave Rowena alone, either. Or — or with Alex, for that matter." Sam paused to sigh, and Alex imagined him pinching the bridge of his nose, the way he always did when he thought. "Just do the best you can to separate them, Cas. The place is warded; those goons who were after her before can't find her there."

"And if she insists on leaving?"

"Then you'll just have to send Alex with her." Sam sighed again, deeper this time, and Alex pulled her grace away from Castiel's ears to return her attention onto the two women in front of her. Both stood on their feet, eyes blazing, and Alex's wings drooped in exasperation at the sight.

"Hey, hey." She stepped forward, hands going out to keep them apart. "Calm down there, ladies. Can't you two work it out?"

"I'll take Rowena outside." Castiel returned his phone to his pocket as he crossed the room to join them, reaching down to separate the chain from the pillar with his grace. "That way Charlie can have her alone time."

"Alone time?" Rowena scoffed, sidestepping the seraph so he could gather up her chains. "Why does she need alone time?" She looked between the two angels, but both Alex and Castiel kept their lips pursed. "Bit of a prima donna, if you ask me," she continued as Castiel lead her towards the stairs. "The girl is simply out of her league. Without me, the work grinds to a halt."

Her voice trailed off as she and Castiel disappeared from sight, and Alex finally let herself relax, wings falling back down to her side. Her relief didn't last long, and her lips turned down into a frown as Charlie snatched her bag off of the floor and began shoving her things inside. "Hey," she warned, unsure of the woman's intentions, "we just got Rowena out of here. You got your peace and quiet."

Charlie shook her head, pausing briefly to look over at the angel. "I can't stay here. It's too …" She looked around, searching for the right words. "Too claustrophobic. Too wrong." She shook her head again as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "It's bad mojo, and I need to clear my head. I'll be back tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, not a good idea, sorry." Alex slipped past Charlie to block the door, her wings rising defensively. "Those people who were hunting down you and the Book are still out there. They can't find us here because of Sam's warding, but if you leave …"

Charlie hesitated, her pale face darkening slightly as she considered Alex's words. "Well, I'm not taking the Book with me, am I?" she finally said, jerking her thumb back towards where the Book of the Damned sat open on the table. When Alex's frown deepened, the woman sighed. "Listen, I'm leaving, okay? But if it'll make you feel better, you can come."

"Okay. Then I guess I'm coming." Alex grabbed her backpack from the table and followed Charlie up the stairs, shaking her head at the redhead's stubbornness as they stepped out into the open air. The sun was still barely visible from behind the trees, and the angel paused beside the silver Volkswagen to watch the fading light as Charlie unlocked the door. "Any idea where we're going?" she asked as she climbed into the front seat, tucking her backpack between her legs as she tossed a handful of comics into the backseat.

"There's a motel not far from here. I've stayed there before." The engine purred to life, and Charlie reached for her seatbelt as she flicked on the headlights. "We'll stop by a gas station, get some snacks, then bunker down for the night." When Alex grunted out her reluctant agreement, Charlie shifted the car into drive. "Great. Let's do it." She reached out, flicking the oversized head of the Hermione Granger bobblehead wedged on the dash, and with a resolved sigh, Charlie guided the car off down the road.

...

 **T** he Volkswagen pulled into the motel parking lot, the wheels clunking against the curb as they rounded the corner, and Alex shifted in her seat as the engine died. "This is it?" She peered out the window towards the rundown motel, frowning at the missing shingles and chipped paint. "Even for my standards, it's not exactly … high quality."

"It's the only motel near the distillery." Charlie threw open the door and got out, and Alex reluctantly followed. "And we want to keep a low profile, right? This is how we do it." Her blue eyes turned onto the motel office, lit up with a flickering neon sign that advertised cheap rooms. "How about I go check in, and you run down to the gas station and get us some thinking food, huh?"

"Maybe later." Alex did her best to keep her hesitation at bay, and she rolled her shoulders back to steel herself for any impending criticism. "I've been given orders not to leave you alone."

"You angels and your orders." Charlie gave a dramatic roll of her eyes before she slung her bag over her shoulder. "Fine. You can stay until I get settled in, but I do want food, okay?"

She walked off towards the office with a toss of her head, leaving Alex to stare after her in confusion. " 'Our orders' …?" she repeated. "Charlie, wait!" The angel hurried after her, her wings fluttering frustratedly. "Wait for me!"

She caught the heavy wooden door before it swung shut behind the woman, and Alex drew in a deep breath to calm herself before she stepped through. "I'd like a room," Charlie was saying to the woman at the desk, and Alex came to stop at her side, feathers laying flat against her jacket. "Uh, near the end, if there's one available. Just for the night."

"Sure thing." Brown eyes brushed across Alex, and the angel lifted her chin under the stare, unsure of the implications in the woman's mind. "One bed or two?"

"One." Both Alex and Charlie spoke at the same time, and the two exchanged a quick glance over the woman's head, whose attention was down her her books. "One," Alex repeated more firmly. "That'll be fine, thanks. I don't need to sleep."

The woman hummed, and she reached into the drawer to retrieve a set of keys. "Your room number is fourteen. Check out is at noon, and just bring the keys back here. Your name?"

"Carrie Asimov." Charlie dug into her bag for her wallet, and she counted out the cash. "The sign said sixty dollars? Here." She dropped the money onto the counter, and the woman counted the bills twice before she slid them into her pocket. The key scraped against the wooden counter as it was pushed towards them, and Charlie snatched it up with a hurried, "Thanks."

Alex held open the door for Charlie, letting her exit before her before she stepped out into the night. "Room fourteen, huh?" She lifted her grace to her eyes as she scanned the stretch of rooms. "Alright, lead the way. I'm going to grab my backpack."

Charlie didn't respond, already making her way across the parking lot, and, with a roll of her eyes, Alex crossed over to the car. _Cas?_ She sent the prayer out along the thin connecting stretch of grace. _We just arrived at the Blackbird Motel. How is Rowena doing?_

 _Stubborn as ever._ Alex felt her mate's frustration thrumming through her chest, and she peered through his eyes to see the witch seated at the table; despite the exhaustion that lined her face, she still held herself as regally and as stubbornly as ever. _And she's not making any progress. Hopefully some space will give Charlie the breakthrough we all need._

 _Wouldn't that be wonderful._ Alex grabbed the door handle, her grace unlocking the car as she reached in to grab her things. _Alright, well, keep me up to date. I think I'm going to give Sam a call in a bit just to see how things are going on his end, considering this is going to be a long night._

No response came, and the angel crossed the parking lot to their room, indicated by the crooked plastic letters hung at eye-level. She stepped inside, locking the door behind her as she let her eyes traverse the room. The wallpaper was faded, curling at the edges, but the damage was barely visible through the darkness. Charlie was already seated at the table, the only light in the room coming from her laptop screen. "It can't be that bad of a room if I can't see it," the woman half-joked when Alex let out a questioning noise. "Oh, and I would avoid going into the bathroom."

"Yeah, I had no intentions of doing that." Alex set her backpack down on the floor, exhaling sharply as her nose picked up the faint trace of mold. "Oh God, be glad you can't smell that."

"Oh, uh, trust me. I can." The chair creaked as Charlie shifted her weight, and Alex looked up to see the hesitant grimace on her pale features. "Well, I suppose this is good motivation to get it done, huh?"

Alex's only response was a grunt as she settled down across from Charlie, eyes taking in the notes that the woman had already scattered across the wooden table. "Alright," she prompted, "talk me through it, starting from the beginning. Maybe thinking aloud will help."

The frustrated glimmer in Charlie's eyes conveyed her disbelief, but she didn't protest. "So, basically the codex is a codebook to decipher the Book of the Damned, but it's also in code. I tried all of the ciphers that Sam pulled from the Men of Letters, but none of those make any sense. Uh, here." Charlie pushed a sheet of paper towards her, and Alex turned her eyes across the neat, sloped scrawling. "These names just keep repeating over and over. Staychys, Polycarp, Pelegius. Peter."

"Those are all saints. Uh, from Byzantium, Smyrna, Tarsus." Alex rolled her eyes back into her head as she thought. "There's a gazillion Saint Peters, so that one's anyone's guess. The one from the Bible's from Galilee, if that helps."

Charlie's frown lessened slightly. "I didn't think of their hometowns," she admitted. "So you think maybe saints represents places that represents …"

"Numbers? Like … coordinates?" The look on Charlie's face revealed guarded hope, and Alex folded her arms on the table before burying her face in the crook of her elbow with a sigh. "I don't know. I'm a hunter, not a hacker." She listened as Charlie's keys clacked on the keyboard, and her eyes fell closed.

"You know, it's hard to believe I was once scared of you." Charlie's fingers paused on the keyboard as she let her algorithm run, and Alex let out a laugh as she lifted her head.

"What? When were you ever scared of me?" Her wings twitched in amusement, and she threw an arm over the back of her chair as she grinned over at Charlie. "I'm flattered, but I'm pretty far from intimidating."

"Are you kidding me? I mean, if was bad enough that when we first met you guys were waiting for me _in my apartment_ — which was so not cool, by the way — but between your freaky staring a-and the — the — what did you call it The wing thing?"

Alex's grin widened, and she straightened up in her chair. "I do like the wing thing," she agreed, and she let her grace rise up as she stretched out her wings. The lamps flashed, the shadows of her wings catching on the walls for the briefest of seconds.

The smile on Charlie's face faded. "They're not looking so good anymore, huh?"

"It's been a rough year." Alex drew her wings in tight, hiding them from sight. "Honestly, I'm just glad that they're back, and once I can fly again …" She felt the hesitation in her voice, and she forced a confident smile. "Which I will," she promised. "I will."

Charlie didn't seem to hear, her gaze back on her computer, and Alex watched as her shoulders fell. "Home countries isn't the key," she announced, and Alex's eyes fell closed in disappointment. "It didn't work. It was a good try," she added, trying to lift her spirits. "We … just need to try something better."

...

 **T** he only sound in the motel room was the clicking of the keyboard, broken only by Charlie's rhythmic breathing. Alex's head rested on her arms, her attention drifting between the rapid taps and the thread of grace that linked her to her mate. In the back of her mind, she could see Rowena, seated at the table in the basement of the distillery, her fingers methodically turning through the pages of the Book of the Damned as her eyes remained fixed on the codex.

"Can you stop doing that?" Charlie's sharp voice had her pulling back into reality, and she lifted her head in surprise. "You — you're not moving, not breathing. It's really freaking me out."

"Uh, sorry?" Alex leaned back in her chair, and it creaked under her weight. "Do you want me to start talking or something?"

"No." Charlie's answer was sharp, and Alex's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "No, I — I want you to just leave me alone. I'm hungry, and I'm frustrated, and you promised me that you would get me some snacks."

Alex pushed herself to her feet, grabbing her coat off of the back of her chair as she motioned down towards Charlie. "Alright. You want snacks, then let's go get some snacks. It'll be good to stretch your legs."

"I don't have time to go anywhere." Charlie shook her head, and Alex frowned. "I've got to break this code." She settled down in her chair, eyes falling back onto her screen. "There's a gas station down the street. You'll be back in ten minutes. What can happen in ten minutes?"

Alex pursed her lips, but she didn't argue. "Okay," she reluctantly agreed, "but I'll be back soon, and you need to give me a call at the first sign of trouble."

Charlie gave a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Oh please. Those mooks want one thing and one thing only, and I don't have the Book. Besides," she added, "they have no way of tracking me. What are the chances of them just — just stumbling upon my room?"

"Still too damn high for my liking," Alex grumbled, but she grabbed her wallet out of her bag with a hesitant nod. "I won't be long." She grabbed her phone and stepped out of the room, shaking her head as she locked the door behind her.

Her wings fluttered slightly in the cool night air, and the angel slipped on her jacket as she started across the parking lot. The lit sign for the gas station could be seen over the trees, and Alex pulled out her phone as she crossed the street.

"Hello?" Sam answered on the first ring, and Alex shoved her free hand into her pocket at the sharpness in his tone. "Alex? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine. I'm with Charlie in town because she needed a break. I tried to convince her to stay," she added when she heard Sam's breath of frustration, "but she was leaving with or without me, and I figured with me was the best choice." She stepped up onto the sidewalk with a shake of her head. "She's still chugging away at the code, though, so I guess that's all we can ask for."

Sam remained silent, and Alex pushed her way into the gas station, humming to try and spur a response. "You need to get Charlie back to the distillery. The people who hunted the Book down, they're in town."

"What?" Alex stopped in her tracks, a chill running through her veins. "What do you mean they're here? Why?"

"Dean and I were working a case tracking them down. They followed us into town and tried to kill Dean — he's fine," Sam quickly added when Alex let out a noise of surprise and concern. "Hell, he even managed to catch one of them, but he's gone. He ripped his damn arm off to get away, and now he's in the wind. You — you need to get Charlie somewhere safe now. Get her packed and in the car."

"Shit. I — she convinced me to get snacks. She's alone in the motel." Food forgotten, Alex hurried back out of the gas station. "I need to get back there now."

"We're on our way." Sam hung up, and Alex shoved her phone into her pocket. A glance back towards the gas station had her pausing, weighing the risks grabbing Charlie's snacks first, but the cons far outweighed the pros, and the angel shook her head. She shouldn't have left Charlie alone.

Her feet carried her across the street as she made her way towards the motel, quickening her pace as fear chewed at her nerves. The odds that those men had managed to track them down without the book was slim, but … but the angel didn't want to take the chance. Not with Charlie's — and Dean's — life on the line.

There was a truck in the parking lot that hadn't been there before, the engine still running despite the lack of occupants, and the hair on the back of Alex's neck rose to see the door to room fourteen laying ajar. "Charlie! No, no, no, no, no …" The breathless mantra left her lips as she broke into a run towards the room, her feet almost slipping against the curb in her desperation. Her grace spun outwards, and the angel let out a strangled noise of relief to feel a familiar soul sitting inside. "Charlie?"

Alex threw herself through the door to see Charlie standing by the bed, her eyes stretched wide in surprise at her sudden arrival. "Alex? What the hell?"

Alex slammed the door shut, slumping against it as she drew in a deep breath. She stayed there only a moment before she straightened back up with a flash of her eyes. "I just talked to Sam. The people who hunted you down — the same people — they're here in Kansas. They're nearby."

"So?" Distress darkened Charlie's eyes for only the briefest of seconds. "Kansas is a big state. There's no way they could find me."

"We're going back to the distillery _now_." Alex snatched Charlie's empty bag off of the chair and threw it towards her. "It's not safe here, and if anything happens to you, it's on me. That's not happening. Not today. Now get packed."

Anger flashed across Charlie's face. "I need five more minutes," she insisted, and she dropped her bag onto the bed as she hurried back over to the laptop. "I-I think I figured it out. The name Ezekiel. Its seven letters. Saints — saints represent groups of letters which represents numbers. Numbers stand for concepts, concepts stand for words. I just need the computer to finish its cycle." She looked up at Alex, her face twisted in a plea. "I feel confident about this one."

"Pack your things," Alex repeated. "As soon as it's done, we're leaving." She grabbed her own backpack from the floor. "I'm going to put my things in the backseat. Stay here."

She stepped out of the motel room, locking the door behind her as she crossed the deserted parking lot to the silver Volkswagen. She cursed under her breath as she circled around to the backseat to toss her bag inside, pausing to press her forehead into the cold metal of the door.

Movement in the corner of her eye had her head snapping up, her nerves on end, and she watched as two men stopped beside door fourteen. The taller one knocked, and Alex's wings flared out in alarm when she saw his arm. One arm. He only had one arm. "Hey." She slammed the door shut as she stalked back towards the room, her feathers bristling in fear and anger. "The hell do the two of you want?"

The door splintered beneath broad shoulders, and Alex broke into a run. "Hey!" Silver flashed in the moonlight as she pulled out her weapon, and she slid to a stop as the shorter man turned to confront her, blocking the door. A knife flashed through the air, and the angel ducked, twisting out of the way to avoid the blow. Her wings flared out to steady her, and she planted a foot to change her momentum as she threw her weight under the stranger's arm.

Her grace fueled her actions, and the man crumpled in surprise, sending them both stumbling into the room. A punch to her face had the bones cracking, and her grace swept through her, healing the fracture even as she hissed in pain. Alex's fingers dug into the man's chest, blunt nails breaking the skin as her head whipped around in search of her friend. "Charlie!"

The bathroom door slammed shut, and the angel struggled to free herself from the grasp of the man below her. "No!" Charlie's scream had Alex's grace rushing outwards, a force that crushed the air from the man's lungs. His grip on her loosened as he fell unconscious, and Alex scrambled to her feet and threw herself against the door.

It splintered beneath her weight, revealing the second stranger. He had Charlie by the throat, blood bubbling from her lips, and lightning flashed through the sky. "No!"

Alex flung herself forward with a snarl, grace causing her eyes to flash with blue fire. Charlie fell from the man's hand, collapsing into the porcelain tub, and Alex grabbed the attacker's one arm, flinging it out of the way. The action left him exposed, and the angel sent her head into his, her forehead cracking against his temple. The tang of blood bit at her tongue, and the man stumbled back with a hiss.

A knife sliced through the air, already stained with Charlie's blood, and Alex grunted as it buried itself to the hilt in between her ribs. She grabbed the stranger by the neck and shoved him past her, back out into the main room while her grace had the door slamming behind her, locking him out. "Charlie." The angel dropped down beside the fallen woman, hands going out to grab hold. "Hey, hey, stay with me."

Her grace rushed inwards to heal Charlie's wounds, searching desperately for any signs of life. "No, no, no-no-no. Charlie?" She could feel a presence behind her, silent and overwhelming, and the angel flared her wings up. "Go away!"

"I'm just doing my job." The response was quiet, the tone calm and professional. "Unlike you and you friends, I uphold the natural order."

Alex rose to her feet, her wings stretching further outwards to steady herself as she whipped around to face the reaper. The man was tall and dark, his features set into stone and as tightly pressed as his immaculate suit. "I don't care." The angel's voice caught in her throat, but she forced her words out. "I'm not letting you take her, and if I have to kill you —"

"If you kill me?" the reaper repeated, and Alex squared her jaw to keep it from shaking. "If you kill me, another reaper will take my place. And until then, Charlie's soul will just wander. Once you've opened the box, there's no stuffing the soul back inside."

The reaper sidestepped Alex's attempt at a blow, flickering out of sight, and the angel spun around, drawing her grace up to her eyes in search of her friend. "Charlie? Charlie, I …" The bathroom was empty, with no sign of the reaper or of Charlie's soul. "Charlie!"

A noise came from the the front room, and Alex's wings rose furiously. The bathroom door flew open, cracking at the hinges as it crashed against the wall. The man who had attacked her was laying on the ground, staggering to his feet. The motel door was open, and Alex heard the sound of a truck tearing down the highway.

The door slammed shut, causing the stranger to glance in its direction in surprise. "What's your name?" The question came out flatly, sounding more like an accusation, and when she wasn't granted a response, she repeated herself , hissing out the words. " _Tell me your name._ "

"Eli. Eli Styne." The man spoke with a thick Southern accent, almost lazy now that the moment of surprise had faded. "And what about you?" His eyes flickered over to Charlie's laptop, and Alex grit her teeth as they flickered darkly. "That's Charlie's, huh?"

Before Alex could respond, he stepped backwards, snatching the open laptop off of the table and snapping it in half. "No!"

The pieces fell to the ground, crushed beneath Eli's heel. "And now you're going to tell me where the Book is."

"Like hell I am." Alex reached down to draw the knife out from her side. It clattered to the ground, and Alex's grace drew her angel blade across the ground and into her hands. "You — I'm gonna fucking kill you."

She flung herself at the man, weapon flashing through the air with a furious snarl. Her strike fell short of its mark as Eli stepped out of the way. His own knife swung through the air, the sharp blade cutting across her arm. The wound healed almost instantly, closing before a single drop of blood could fall, and Alex's wings flared outwards in fury. "I see I'm not the only one with modifications." Eli's tongue darted out nervously as he spoke, but his words fell on deaf ears.

The angel lunged forward, ducking past his arms to thow herself into his chest. The impact sent the both of them crashing into the table, and it cracked beneath their weight, sending them to the ground. Eli landed among the splinters, grunting in surprise, and Alex followed, crashing against his chest. She lifted a fist, ready to strike, but reeled back as hands gripped her throat, squeezing to the point of panic.

The angel dropped her weapon as she scrabbled at his fingers. A bone cracked under her efforts, then two, but the man didn't pull away.

Castiel's grace suddenly rose up, and Eli yanked back with a shout of surprise and pain as her mate's grace burned at his skin, and Alex pulled free with a snarl of fury. Anger fueled her fists as they rained down blows onto the man, her grace healing her knuckles as her skin split under the impact.

The attack lessened as Eli fell still beneath her, his face bruised and bloody beyond recognition, and she reached down, feeling for her weapon, but her fingers found only empty air.

Alex screamed as her own angel blade pierced her side, twisting away from the pain as the tip of her weapon dug deeper towards her heart. She reached out, grabbing Eli's face as she forced all of her pain and fury down her arm and into him. The room lit up in a blinding light, the high-pitched shriek of her grace drowning out Eli's dying scream. His hand went limp, falling away and pulling the angel blade with it, and Alex's fingers caught it before it hit the ground.

She buried it up to the hilt in Eli's chest with a scream of her own, filled with pain and grief. " _No_!"

Flesh parted beneath her weapon as she stabbed him again and again, the silver edges tearing deeper and deeper wounds. She lost herself in the motion, her grace burning and her vision red.

Hands dragged her away, and Alex struggled, grace snapping out at the sudden intrusion. "Alex, it's me! It's me!" Sam's voice sounded next to her ear, and the angel's struggles failed. She felt arms surrounding her, holding her close, and her senses finally expanded, taking in the rest of the room. She could smell the blood, but the corpse in front of her was unrecognizable, little more than a bloody pulp. How long had she been kneeling there?

"Sam …" Dean's voice came from the bathroom, and the angel shrank into Sam's arms. "Oh God."

Sam shifted, but Alex gripped him tighter, unable to tear her eyes away from the mutilated body. She could feel his blood against her skin, sinking through her clothing, and she dug her nails into Sam's arm. "You're okay." The whisper came close to her ear, his cheek pressed against her temple to keep her steady. "It's okay. We're here."

"What happened here?" Dean's voice came from behind her, and Alex felt Sam twisted his head to look up at his brother. The Winchester's eyes were hard, set in ice. "Charlie's dead in the bathroom," he told his brother, and the tall hunter stiffened with a choked gasp of horror. "What the fuck?"

"Eli Styne." Alex turned towards the unrecognizable corpse. "He a-and another man were here." Her voice trembled, but the angel couldn't find the energy to steady it. "I was packing the car when they showed up. This — this is all my fault!"

Sam's soothing voice was drowned out by Dean's scoff. "You're telling me you couldn't take out two supercharged rednecks? The fuck were you thinking, dragging Charlie all the way out here?"

"Dean!" Sam's voice lifted in anger at his brother's tone. "Cool it, okay? This isn't her fault." His eyes turned across the bloodied scene, tracing the blood spatters up to the ceiling. "This isn't your fault," he repeated. "You did everything you could."

"You don't know what I did." The angel blade fell from Alex's hands, clattering to the ground as a shiver ran up her body. "I didn't do enough."

The motel door swung open with a bang, and Alex flinched away as Castiel stepped into the room. "Alex." The seraph's voice faltered at the sight of the bloodbath. "I felt your distress." His eyes traversed the room, slowly taking in the extent of the damage before finally coming to rest on the mangled corpse. "I saw … I saw you …"

"Hey, uh, Cas ..?" Sam shifted, and Alex flattened her wings to press closer with a shaky sound of distress. "Take Alex out of here. She doesn't need to be here right now, okay?" He pushed himself to his feet, pulling Alex up with him, and the angel felt Castiel's wings wrap around her protectively.

"You're injured." Worry pulsed through him, echoed dully through Alex's grace, and she felt his hand come to rest on her side. "How much of this blood is yours?"

"Dunno." Now that she was on her feet, the angel could feel her blood pulsing out of her side, causing the room to spin and her words to slur, and Sam and Castiel exchanged a worried glance over her shoulder. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. I'll take care of her," he promised the Winchesters. "This …" He shook his head, surveying the room, and Alex felt blackness pressing in on her vision as his grace overwhelmed her. "I'm sorry."

The world spun beneath Alex's feet, and she felt the floor slip away, made slick by the fresh blood on the floor. Darkness pressed against her eyes, and the angel slithered into Castiel's arms as the blackness took over.


	21. The Prisoner

**I had this chapter (second to last of this season!) all ready to go last night, but I got so busy with Christmas and family, I just didn't have time to post. But here we are. I hope you all had a wonderful day!**

* * *

 **...**

 **July 2nd, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** lex heard the door swing open, and her wings stretched out with a barely stifled groan. She could feel Castiel standing in the bunker hallway peering in, worry thrumming through his grace. "Are they back yet?" The words were muffled by the thin pillow, and Alex reluctantly rolled onto her side, grunting as she felt the skin around her wound tug painfully. "Are they back yet?" she repeated, pushing herself up into a sitting position to face her mate.

Castiel hadn't moved from the doorway, and Alex curled her wings forward, inviting him in. "They haven't returned." The seraph came to stop at the foot of the bed, and Alex shifted back to rest her back against the headboard. "They said they would be back once they …"

"Once they burn her." Alex's grace went out to tug her mate closer, her broken wings stretching towards him. "She's dead because I wasn't there for her."

"You did everything you could." The mattress dipped as Castiel sat at her side. "The blame is partially on my shoulders. I shouldn't have let Charlie go off." He put a hand on her knee, his broken wings falling as his shoulders slumped. "I watched through your eyes, you know. I know you did everything in your ability."

"And it wasn't enough." Tears stung at her eyes, and Alex turned her gaze down onto her hands. The skin was pale and clear, the blood washed away beneath the shower's cold spray, but traces still remained, black beneath her fingernails. "I shouldn't have left her side. I could have killed Eldon if I had been able to get there in time."

She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palm to hide the blood. Castiel's hand tightened on her knee, but no words came. His eyes fell down onto the ground, and Alex sighed, twisting in her seat to grab her phone. "What else?" She pushed down her emotions, tucking them deep inside as she expounded, "The Winchesters. What else did they say?"

"Not much." Castiel's hand pulled away, returning to his lap, and Alex checked her own messages with a frown. "Sam was upset, Dean was furious. That was all I was able to gather. I was more concerned about you." He shifted closer, his grace pushing against her chest, and Alex obediently stretched out so he could examine the wound on her side. "It was deep, but I was able to stem the flow. Healing it took longer." The pads of his finger danced across the skin, warm and hesitant, and Alex stifled a flinch at the slight pressure. "I did the best I could."

"You did great." Alex threw her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself to her feet with a quick shake of her head. "Thanks." She crossed her room, motioning Castiel after her. "And Rowena is still at the distillery? Alone?"

"I promised Sam that I would go back there as soon as you were awake." Castiel rose, his lips pressed together in a tight frown. "Rowena is secured until I return."

"Well, I'm ready to rock and roll whenever you are." Alex flicked her grace out, searching for her bag. "Where are my things?" Her side cramped, and she cut off with a grunt of muffled pain. "I need my things."

Her wings pressed tightly against her back as Castiel stepped close, his arms going around her waist to keep her stable. "They're in my car." The seraph's breath stirred her hair, his voice a low murmur, and Alex let him hold her a moment long before she stepped way.

"Great." Alex tugged on the hem of her shirt with a frown. "Well, let me change my clothes, and then we can go." She felt Castiel's frustration, and she flicked a wing in frustration. "I'm coming with," she repeated. "I slept for how — how many hours? Almost twelve? I'm ready to go."

She shucked off her shirt and tossed it towards the darkened corner of the floor, eyes scanning the room before landing on the open dresser. She fished out a new top and pulled it on, her eyes flashing in determination. She could see the seraph's disappointment, and she reached out to tug on one of his long feathers before she grabbed her shoes and stepped out of the room.

The door swung shut behind her, and the angel paused to listen for the squeaky hinges that would indicate that Castiel was following. It came a few seconds later, and with a nod, Alex continued on towards the stairs.

She felt her legs wobble slightly by the time she reached the top of the metal stairs, but she steadied herself on the railing before Castiel could see. Her grace slunk out to unlock the bunker door, and she climbed the stairs to find the Lincoln Continental seated in the dirt driveway. She sunk into the front seat, momentarily closing her eyes to save her strength as she waited for her mate to join her outside.

She could feel her heart still pounding in her chest, and she soothed it with her grace as Castiel joined her in the car. "And you're sure you're ready." The engine rumbled as Alex nodded, and the seraph sighed. "Alex, you know if you ever need to talk …"

"I can go to you. I know." The angel cast her mate a sidelong glance from the corner of her eye, her shoulders falling. "I know," she repeated softly, and she shifted on the bench seat so she could rest her head up against his shoulder. "Thank you."

...

 **T** he distillery door opened under her touch, and Alex reached out to steady herself on the door frame before she made her way down the stairs. Her eyes flickered momentarily onto Rowena, who sat stiffly at one of the rickety wooden tables, and her wings twitched in displeasure at the sight of the witch.

"Ah. You're back." Rowena smiled over at the two of them, and Alex scowled at the dark loathing in her eyes. "What, did you get tired of leaving me to rot?"

"Nope, not yet." Alex dropped down into a chair with a fake grin. "So we thought we'd come back and watch." Her grin faded, and her wings slumped, unable to keep up her energy to waste it on aggravating the witch. "Well? What progress have you made?"

"Some," came the cryptic response. "But not much." Rowena slowly sat down in her seat, head lifted high as she regarded the seraph. Interest flickered in her eyes, and Castiel frowned as he crossed over to sit down in front of the Book of the Damned.

Rowena didn't tear her gaze away as he began flipping through the pages, and Alex could feel his frustration growing and growing until it finally snapped. "Stop looking at me."

"I'm sorry." Rowena's voice held anything but an apology, and she leaned forward to stare more intently at the seraph. "You're just fascinating. An angel that rejected heaven. That's like a fish that wants to fly, or a dog that thinks he's people."

"Well, I'm like a lot of people." Castiel's eyes fell back down onto the ancient book with a scoff, and his large wings twitched in disdain as Rowena didn't break her stare.

"Keep telling yourself that, dear." The look in her eyes indicated she wanted to say more, but the slamming of the distillery door had her falling silent, her dark eyes turning towards the stairs. Footfalls approached, and Alex recognized the pattern as Sam before the Winchester appeared. "Well, about bloody time."

"Sam." Alex pushed herself to her feet at the sight of him, her eyes stretching wide. "Sam, I-I'm sorry. I should have been there with you and Dean at the pyre —"

"Hey, it's okay." Sam reached out, and Alex stepped into the side hug, pressing her cheek into his shoulder. "It's probably best that you weren't there. Dean … Dean's not in a good place." The angel felt his chest rise and fall in a heavy sigh before he shook his head. "How are you feeling? You're looking better."

"I'm back on my feet, and that's what's important." Alex stepped away from Sam to touch her side with a shrug. "Cas was able to heal me up for the most part, but I'm still a bit shaky." She returned to her seat, her wings stretching out to balance her as she sat down. "How about you, Sam?"

"I'm fine."

"What's wrong with Dean?" Castiel joined the conversation, stepping up to Alex's side, and Sam's eyes flashed nervously, clearly uncomfortable about the change in conversation.

"Dean … Dean left. He's looking for the people who killed Charlie." Sam ignored Rowena's interested hum, and his eyes fell closed in momentary defeat. "And he knows about — about the Book, about all of this." His eyes opened back up, sweeping across Cas and Alex. "I'm shutting this down. I promised Dean —"

"What? No! You can't do that!" Alex's eyes stretched wide, and she put a hand on Sam's shoulder, fingers digging into his bicep. "Charlie — she cracked the damn code. It's possible. We can't give up when she gave _everything_!"

Sam and Castiel exchanged looks, and the Winchester's shoulders slumped even further. "I'm sorry, but … we don't have Charlie's notes, we … we don't have anything. We're back to square one."

"What about her?" Castiel cast a low glare over his shoulder towards Rowena, who was listening in with barely disguised interest.

Sam scowled. "Guess."

"I'd be happy to kill her. She just called me a fish." Castiel's wings twitched again, and he fell silent for several seconds, deep in thought. "And what about Dean?"

"We, uh … we should be able to track him. I lowjacked the Impala a few weeks back just in case." He dug around in his pocket for his phone, and Alex shifted impatiently on the hard concrete floor as Sam pulled up the map. When he paused, she stepped closer, leaning against his shoulder to watch the screen. A small red dot flashed upon the screen, steadily moving south, and the angel's attention was drawn upwards as a notification pinged.

The phone was jostled out of her sight as Sam jumped to answer it; the angel could hear his heart pounding as he read it. "It — it's from Charlie." He pointed the phone in Alex's direction so she could see the file labeled . "She — she must have sent it before …" He pushed past her, excitement fueling his steps, and Alex felt her own heart leap as he shoved the phone into Rowena's face. "Is this what I think it is?"

The witch studied the file, and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Oh, that little minx. She's cracked the code."

"Can you read the Book of the Damned with this?" Sam pressed, and Rowena nodded.

"Every last word," she promised, and Alex grinned as Sam looked back at them, relief lighting up his face. "We can cure the Mark of Cain."

Sam's hands clenched and unclenched as he tried to rein in his excitement. "Cas," he instructed, "go find Dean, make sure he doesn't go too far off the reservation, okay? Alex, you —"

"I'm going with Cas, obviously." The angel straightened up, shoulders rolling back in an attempt to prove she was as capable as ever. "What about you? What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to save my brother. I know what I told Dean," he hurriedly interjected when Castiel pursed his lips. "Cas, look. I've been the one out there, messed up and scared. And alone. And Dean —"

"He did whatever he could to save you," Castiel finished with a reluctant nod.

"Yes. I mean, it's become his thing." Hazel eyes drifted down onto Alex, wide with desperation. "I owe him this. I owe him everything. Look, I know he pretends he can ride the Mark out, but you and I know the truth. We know what happens if we don't cure him. We both know where that road ends."

Alex grimaced at the memory, and she felt her mate nod solemnly, determination rising through his grace. "Black eyes and blood," he agreed.

"Yeah." Sam nodded towards the door. "Go find him, Cas. Keep him safe." He watched as Alex took a step back towards the door, and the firmness in his eyes faltered. "Alex … maybe it's best if you stay behind."

"Why?" Alex's wings rose as she felt her legs tremble slightly, and she lifted her chin in indignation. "I'm healed, Sam, I'm fine. I'm of more use hunting down Dean than — than sitting here and watching the paint dry!"

She watched how Sam's jaw set, clearly unconvinced, but he merely shook his head. "I believe you," he agreed quietly, and the angel's wings lowered in confusion. "But Dean … like I said, he's not happy with you. So all I'm saying is that maybe it's best if you keep your distance until he's had some time to cool off."

Alex looked up at Castiel, searching his face for support, but the seraph gave a nod. "I agree with Sam."

The angel pursed her lips tightly together, trying to keep her voice calm in face of the obstinance. "No, you — you don't understand. You want to keep Dean under control, I'm your man. I've been doing it for _months_."

"Pip, he's not gonna listen." Sam's face darkened in exasperation. "Cas can do it on his own. Besides," he added after a second, and Alex frowned at the false light in his eyes. "I need you here to help with Rowena."

Alex looked between Sam and Castiel, her teeth grinding together as she searched for another excuse. "Fine," she finally snapped, her feathers rustling. "I'll stay."

"Thank you." Castiel's voice rumbled in his chest, and Alex tilted her head away when his wings brushed gently against her hair. "I won't be long." He turned towards the witch, and the softness left his face. "Find a cure for the Mark, and then find a way to break the deal," he ordered, his grace prickling with anger as Rowena gave a dramatic roll of her eyes. "I'll be back soon."

Castiel stalked away, and Alex shot a glare in his direction, her feathers bristling angrily. "Forget about the deal, cure the Mark," she snapped towards the witch, but Rowena gave no signs that she heard, her attention still on the disappearing seraph.

"Ooh," she teased, "I do love a bit of intrigue."

Sam's face tightened, and he placed his phone on the table in front of her. "Right, less talk, more translating. Go."

"About that." Rowena slowly pushed the phone away, her chin lifting defiantly. "I said I can read the book. Never said I _would_."

Chair legs scraped as Alex pulled the witch from her chair. She pinned here against one of the wooden columns, her eyes flashing in fury. "We had a deal," she reminded with a hiss.

"We did, we do." Rowena forced the words out, her throat crushed between the pillar and Alex's hand; despite her precarious position, she still held her head high. "And it's your time you held up your end. I want my son dead."

"After —"

"Now." Rowena cut Sam off, and Alex loosened her grip slightly, allowing the witch to place her feet flat on the floor. "Once I cast the spell — and you _need_ me to cast that spell — who knows what'll happen."

A bang echoed through the room as Sam slammed his hand down onto the table. "I don't have time for this!" he yelled, and the witch ripped herself from Alex's hand, her chains dragging across the ground.

"Right, you don't," she agreed. "Your brother's a walking time bomb, and the clock, she's a-ticking. So you will kill my son, and you will do it my way, now!" Her finger swung over to Alex. "I want you to do it."

Alex stepped away from Rowena, and reaching over to shut the Book of the Damned with a thud. "You don't really want your son dead, do you?" Her fingers drummed on the hard binding. "We told you before. I can't kill Crowley. I try, I die, and then he'll never let us near him again."

"I don't care. Get it done." Rowena swept her way past the angel, and Alex stepped back with a roll of her eyes. "When you do, I'll read the Book."

A hand on her shoulder had her turning away, and she followed Sam across the room. "Listen," he began, "I can kill Crowley. But maybe — maybe this is the best way to break your deal …" He trailed off, casting a glance towards the witch, and he waved her after him up the stairs. Alex followed, her feathers ruffling in displeasure as she reached the landing. "Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone."

"Fine." Alex pulled a sour face, and she shoved her hands into her pockets. "Alright, I can easily get Crowley anywhere you need him, but I can't be in the room when you confront him."

"Yeah, that works. I'll go get the spell from Rowena. Uh, here. "Sam pulled out his phone, and Alex felt her own cell vibrate. "There's an abandoned factory across town. I just sent you the address. Have Crowley meet us there."

"Sure." Alex nodded as Sam walked away, and she typed out a hasty text to the King of Hell. _Need to talk about Dean. Meet in 20 at 11979 Cedar Street, Concordia, Kansas. 66901_ ". She sent the text and tucked her phone back into her pocket, and, with one last glance towards the staircase, she stepped outside to wait.

...

 **Concordia, Kansas**

 **J** ust like Sam had said, the factory was abandoned. Alex pried the wooden planks off of the door and slipped inside, shaking out her wings as they brushed against the doorframe. "He'll be here in three minutes." Alex glanced over her shoulder towards Sam, who followed her in. "So, you got everything?"

"Devil-trap etched bullet. Hexbag." Sam held up his gun and the small fabric pouch in quick succession. "And you'll be upstairs?"

"As backup," Alex confirmed. "Pray if you need me." She dug her headphones out of her pocket, tucking one into her left air. "This'll keep me from hearing Crowley if he shouts," she half-joked. "I can't help him if I can't hear him." She stepped away towards the staircase, hurrying upstairs as she cranked up the music, drowning out the ambience around her. A crate sat against the wall, and the angel dropped down onto it, drawing her feet up under her as she lost herself in the screaming guitar.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there — no longer than five minutes at the most— before Sam's voice broke through her head. _Downstairs, now_. The angel yanked the earpiece out of her ear, surprise and worry pulsing through her at the pained tone to the Winchester's voice. "Sam?"

She shoved her phone into her pocket as she pushed herself to her feet, jumping down the steel stairs as her grace stretched out in search of the hunter's soul. She followed it down the hall and into a large, dark room. Sam lay against a pillar against the far wall, and Crowley stood above him, a bloody bullet in between his thick fingers. "Powerful magic." His toes ground a smoldering hex bag into the concrete ground. "Might have worked on any other demon. But me? Please."

His eyes were red as he turned, and the color drained back to brown at the sight of the angel. "And there she is." He beckoned her in, and Alex reluctantly obeyed, her wings lifting in frustration. His eyes dropped back down onto Sam, who grunted in pain as he held his ribs, and the demon dropped the bullet, his fingers coming together as if to snap. "I could kill you," he reminded darkly, and he followed Sam's gaze over to Alex. "Or I could make her do it." Crowley waved her forward again, and the angel stiffly approached. "Easiest thing in the world."

Alex squared her jaw, fists clenched, but after a second of consideration, Crowley's hand fell back to his side. "From here on out, I want you to know that the only reason you're alive is because I allowed it. And I want you to deliver a message." His voice rose, echoing angrily through the room. "You tell that ginger whore that I gave her a chance to walk away, and she spat in my face. So now, she'll never see me coming." His eyes glittered as he stepped back. "Get out of here," he ordered. "I need to talk to Alex. Alone."

The angel suppressed a shiver, but she obediently stepped aside to let Sam through, giving him a small, barely perceptible nod. She watched as the hunter hurried away, finally turning to the King of Hell when his footsteps had faded away. "So … how have you been?"

"Don't play coy, darling. It's not flattering." Crowley's eyes hardened, and one step carried him toe-to-toe with the angel. "You lured me here so Samuel could kill me."

"Rowena didn't give us much of a choice. Either you die, or Dean does." Alex tipped her head, her own eyes narrowing into an accusing squint. "Who do you think I was going to choose?"

The momentary narrowing of the demon's eyes gave the angel her answer. "You won't try it again." The command came coldly, and Alex squared her jaw. "If Sam tries again, you will stop him with whatever means necessary. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes … sir." Alex let her gaze fall to the ground, her wings pressed tightly against her back to keep her feathers from ruffling. "I understand."

She felt the air shift as Crowley stepped closer, and her grace recoiled as a warm hand closed around her chin, lifting her head up to meet the King's dark gaze. He studied her for several seconds, questions dancing behind his eyes, and Alex's eyes flickered back down to the ground. "Anything else you need to tell me, little mouse?"

Alex lifted her grace, constructing a wall between Castiel's grace and her mind before she finally spoke. "Castiel is still looking to break my deal." She pressed tentatively against it, making sure that it held. "I've tried convincing him to stop, but …"

But?" The demon dropped her chin, and Alex's wings flittered, feathers rustling against her jacket to lie flat. When she didn't continue, he frowned. "While I appreciate the heads-up, I can't help but wonder what brought about such subservience." He paused as if to think, and his honey-sweet voice took on a colder note. "Getting information out of you is like milking a bull. What do you think you're playing at?"

"I don't want him wasting his time looking for something that isn't there." Alex watched the disbelief in the demon's eyes, and she couldn't help but frown. "I figured the sooner you put a cork in it, the better off we'll all be. You'll have some peace of mind, and I'll have him here instead of sneaking around behind my back. What?" she snapped when a smirk decorated Crowley's face. "This isn't funny."

"This is about the girl you killed yesterday, isn't it?" The King of Hell's eyes glittered in amusement "What was her name?"

"Charlie." Alex felt heat rise to her cheeks as she hissed out the name. "Her name was Charlie. And no — this — this has nothing to do with her."

"You're resigning yourself to your fate over one soul." Crowley chuckled, the humor fading as Alex's wings rose in anger. "When I tell you to kill," he began, his hands disappearing into his pockets, "you kill with no remorse. And yet here you condemning yourself for the death of one person."

"This is _different_ , Crowley." Alex nearly snarled out the word, her feathers ruffling angrily. "When you tell me to kill, that person's dead already, no matter what I do. You taught me that lesson, remember?" The small smirk on the demon's face made his answer clear, and the angel ground her teeth. "Charlie died because I didn't protect her — that makes it my fault. I deserve to go to hell, and I know that one way or another, that's where I'll end up. There's no point in giving Cas the false hope that I won't."

Crowley stood silently, his head tipped slightly as he studied her, assessing her words for any sign of deception. "I appreciate the honesty, mouse," he finally said, "but if you think this has earned my forgiveness, you're mistaken." He nodded towards the door. "Go to Sam. He's waiting for you."

The demon disappeared into thin air, leaving Alex standing alone in the abandoned factory. Her wings fell down, and the angel reluctantly pulled down the hastily-constructed wall that surrounded her mind as her feet carried her towards Sam. The Winchester was standing outside the door, and Alex watched as his concern melted into relief at the sight of her. "Are you okay?" he asked, and the angel's wings flicked dismissively as he hurriedly continued speaking. "I'm sorry — I should have found a way to lure him here on my own —"

"Sam, it's fine." Alex brushed past him with a shake of her head. "I don't regret doing it, and all things considered, he didn't seem to angry about it." She paused beside the car, turning as she waited for Sam to follow. "Come on. We need to get back to Rowena and explain this whole thing."

"I … I already called her." Sam circled around to the front of the car to unlock the doors. "She's not budging until I kill Crowley."

"Well, that's not going to be easy now that I've been ordered to stop you at all costs." Alex pursed her lips together, and Sam matched her expression with a frown of his own. "So it looks like we're going to have to part ways for the time being."

"I'm going back to the distillery to try and reason with her," Sam explained. "And you?" He jumped slightly as his phone rang, and he frowned down at the caller ID. "It's Cas," he explained as he answered. "Hey. Did — did you find him?"

Alex lifted her grace so she could hear her mate on the other end of the line. "Not yet," the seraph admitted. "But I'm at the Styne estate in Louisiana, and … Dean was here."

"You sure?" Sam cast a quick glance in Alex's direction as Castiel voiced his affirmation, and he dropped the phone onto the roof of the car, turning it on speaker so she could hear as he added, "How bad is it?"

"There are three bodies down here and more than a dozen upstairs in the main house." Castiel's voice crackled through the phone, low in frustration. "He killed … he killed _everyone_. And brutally."

Sam visibly flinched at the news, and Alex leaned forward across the car to push herself closer to the phone. "Hey, Cas. I can be there in a couple of hours. Text me the address, okay?"

"No." Alex started to bristle at the refusal, but Castiel wasn't finished. "No," he repeated, "don't bother. The GPS says that he's head north."

"North?" Sam exchanged a quick look with Alex, confusion dancing in his eyes. "Where?"

"Home. Dean's coming home." The seraph let out a long sigh, and for several seconds, he was silent. "I'm leaving now," he finally said. "Are you sure that Dean doesn't know where you're keeping Rowena?"

"Positive." Sam snatched the phone off of the phone, and he pressed it back up against his ear, leaving Alex to pull open the car door with a frown. "I'll be back at the distillery in half an hour," he added as he joined Alex in the front seat. "I'll send Alex down to the bunker. Maybe we can cut him off before he does anything else."

He hung up, shoving his phone into his jacket pocket as he started the car, and Alex's frown deepened. "I thought you didn't want me and Dean being anywhere near each other," she reminded tersely.

"Yeah, well, that was before Dean killed an entire family tree." The car peeled out of the overgrown parking lot, and Sam's voice trembled slightly. "Alex … this is bad, and I —"

"I know." The angel reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, her thumb rubbing a quick, comforting circle before she pulled away. "I won't let him hurt anyone else." She watched the highway in the distance, and she shifted so her wings could hang over the back of her seat. "I'll leave for the bunker as soon as we get back," she promised. "If he's headed there, I'll find him."

...

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **T** he bunker door opened beneath her touch, and Alex stepped inside, grace spilling inwards as she searched the building. The dirt driveway outside of the entrance had been empty, with no sign of fresh tire prints, and the inside air was still, carrying its faint hint of mustiness. "Hello?" Her voice echoed through the room, but nothing stirred.

The angel descended the stairs, drawing her grace back inside her with a frown. She looked down at her phone to confirm Castiel's text about nearing the bunker — he estimated he would be there within fifteen minutes — before she tucked it back into her pocket with a shake of her head. If Dean was truly on his way here, he should arrive before Cas.

She followed the hallway through the bunker, pausing at the stairs to push her grace out one more time before she ascended. The air grew fresher as she reached the third level, and she jumped up the last few stairs to peer into the garage. There was no sign of the Impala, its usual parking spot still empty, and the angel descended, pausing only to peer into the gym.

The creak of the door had her head snapping up, and her wings fluttered in surprise. "Dean?" The angel's grace swept out to identify the cause of the sound, twitching when she didn't recognize the souls.

"Hello?" an unfamiliar voice shouted. "Anybody in here?" Alex stalked forward, muttering a cold, "Not Dean," under her breath

"Take whatever looks interesting and burn it." The southern accent drifted up from the main level, and Alex jumped down the stairs, her wings extended to keep her balanced. She could hear movement, sharp with intention, and she slowed down as she reached the landing, grace binding with the angel blade in her back pocket as she approached the library. There were two souls, old yet still warm with youthful vigor, and Alex barely held back a snarl as she recognized the first.

"Hey." She stepped out into the library, her wings flared high above her head as she confronted the man who had killed Charlie Bradbury. "Remember me?"

"You." The man's dark eyes hardened at the sight of her. "How are you still alive?"

"I'm pretty damn hard to kill." Alex's eyes turned across the room, onto the two tables who had been thrown across the room. In their place lay books, a small pile that was slowly growing. Eldon's companion was a teenage boy, with thick curly hair that almost hid thick-rimmed glasses. "And I hope you're planning on putting those back."

"So this is your home, huh?" Eldon stretched out his arms as he gestured to the bunker around him. "You and the Winchesters. A treasure trove of knowledge that we never knew about."

Alex's gaze remained on the pile of books, and she let her grace rise up, causing the lights to flicker. "You weren't supposed to know about it. So what exactly brought you here?" She rolled her shoulders back as Eldon chuckled. "You were the one they brought back here, aren't you?" Her eyes dropped down onto his hands, adding, "And you were missing something."

"Do you like it?" Eldon lifted his left arm, clenching and unclenching his new fist. "My old man gave me some new upgrades."

"Your old man's dead." A new voice came from the doorway, and everyone turned. Dean stood in the entrance to the library, his green eyes dull. Blood covered everything, staining his skin and sinking into his clothes. "They're all dead," he added, and Eldon shrugged off his suit coat, laying it over the top of a chair as he turned to face the Winchester. "So you can save the speech about the two spleens, the seven nipples for the —"

" _Dean_." Alex stepped forward, a hand stretching out to calm him down. "Just calm down and take a deep breath, okay? I have this under control."

"Like hell you do." Silver flashed as Dean whipped out his gun, and the angel recoiled in surprise as the muzzle fired. Eldon crumpled to the ground, a hole through the middle of his skull, and the teenage boy jumped back with a shout of fear and surprise.

"No, no, no, no, don't!" he begged as Dean's gun turned onto him. "Don't!"

"Why not? You're one of them." The Winchester scowled as Alex stepped in front of the teenager, her wings stretched out to hide him from sight. "Get out of the way."

"I'm not going to let you hurt him, Dean." Alex kept her voice as calm as she could, eyes narrowed as she stared down the barrel of the gun. "I promised Sam I wouldn't let anyone else get killed —"

"What, like you you didn't let Charlie get killed?" Dean's retort had Alex falling silent with a strangled noise of surprise. ""Or Tina?" He waved his gun, motioning for her to step aside. "If you don't get out, I'll just have to go through you. Your choice."

Alex scoffed loudly, hiding her fear as she stretched out towards her mate for help. "You can't kill me," she reminded sharply. "And you won't, not until you kill Crowley and Cas first. Cain —"

Her answer came in the form of a gunshot, and Alex hissed in surprise as the bullet tore through her kneecap. Her leg crumpled beneath her, and the angel stumbled as her grace rushed down to heal the injury before her knee could touch the ground. A second shot followed in quick succession, and a body hit the floor before Alex could jump back to her feet. Dean lowered his gun, clearing it and tucking it back into his jeans without any interest in the angel's anger; he didn't bother to even look up until Alex was standing toe-to-toe with him. His green eyes were cold and dull, and Alex studied the blood that freckled his skin with a scowl of disdain.

The bunker was silent, the only sound being Dean's quiet breathing and steady heart. The two stood face-to-face, each refusing to flinch before the other. Fire danced in Alex's grey eyes, a burning anger in stark contrast to Dean's icy stare. The air thickened as the tension grew, and Alex's wings stretched high as it threatened to break.

"Dean!" A voice boomed from behind them, and Dean's head snapped to the side. "What have you done?" Castiel stormed up the stairs, his own tattered navy wings stretched out in rage. Dean didn't respond, and Castiel crossed over to kneel down beside the dead teen. "You killed him."

"I took down a monster," Dean retorted. "Because that's what I do. And I'll continue to do that until …"

"Until you become a monster," Cas finished, rising to his feet.

Dean stiffened at his words, his knuckles cracking as he curled his fists at his side. "You can leave now, Cas. And you, Alex. Get out."

"No. We're not leaving." Alex put a hand on his chest to draw his attention down onto her, grunting when Dean roughly slapped it away. "We're trying to cure you," she snapped, hands swinging down to plant on her hips. "And we're not just going to give up and walk away!"

"Like hell you are," Dean spat. "You can't read the Book. Sam said so."

Alex rolled her shoulders back under his glare. "Charlie cracked the code before she died. She gave her _life_ to find a way to read the Book of the Damned."

Oh, and so what?" Dean's lips were pulled up in a snarl. "Now you _might_ find a spell that _might_ take this shit off my arm? But even if you do, what's it gonna cost?" His eyes turned over onto Castiel. "Cause magic like that does _not_ come free. No, it comes with a price you pay in blood. So thanks, but I'm good."

Dean turned towards the door, ready to leave, but Castiel surged forward, grabbing him by the shoulder. "No!" Castiel's wings flared high, his voice deepening commandingly. "You're not. Maybe you could fight the Mark for years, maybe centuries like Cain did." Dean bristled under his words, but the seraph continued on. "But you cannot fight it forever. And when you finally turn, and you will turn … Sam and everyone you know, everyone you love … they could be long dead. Everyone except Alex and I. We're the ones who will have to watch you murder the world. So if there's even a small chance that we can save you, I won't let you walk out of this room."

"Oh, you think you have a choice." Dean brushed off Castiel's hand as he turned to face him, his face set in stone.

"I think the Mark is changing you," Castile reiterated, his voice equally as cold.

"You're wrong."

"Am I?" Castiel tipped his head, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Dean. "Because the Dean Winchester I know would never have murdered that kid."

Dean scoffed at his words. "Yeah, well, that Dean's always been a dick." He turned to go, but Castiel once again stepped forward to stop him.

"Dean," he warned, and his wings stretched out, broken feathers spreading out in fury. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem." Quick as a snake, Dean wrenched Castiel's hand from his shoulder, pivoting on his heel and planting his feet as his fist slammed into Castiel's face.

A second punch quickly followed, and Castiel stumbled back, tripping over a stray book and falling to the ground. "Hey!" Alex jumped forward to defend him, her grace crackling angrily in her chest as she stood up against Dean. "Watch it!"

"Get out of my _way_!" Dean's fist came from the left, and Alex barely had time to duck as it whistled past her head. His knee came up and into her stomach, and Alex doubled over in pain and surprise. Hands grabbed her shoulder, holding her steady before a second fist rammed into her head. Alex stumbled back, stunned by the sudden and vicious attack.

She dropped low as Dean took another swing, and she deflected the blow away. With his arm past her, she threw a punch into his chin, sending the Winchester staggering. Dean grabbed his chin with a hiss of surprise, and Alex only had a moment of respite before his attack redoubled. A blow to her skull had the world spinning, and then the ground wasn't beneath her feet.

Dean's fingers grabbed her jacket, lifting her off the ground. With a burst of strength, he sent her flying, and Alex's back collided with the war room table. The impact sent chairs clattering to the ground, and darkness flashed across her vision as she slumped to the ground. The world was hazy, blurry and spinning, and Alex's fingers pressed flat against the concrete floor. Her grace rushed through her, a whirlwind of warmth, and her vision slowly returned under its guiding strength.

She could hear the sounds of fighting, smell the iron tang of blood. Dean was in the library, kneeling over Castiel, and Alex gasped for air as she struggled to push herself to her feet. "Dean. Stop." Castiel's voice was ragged, laced with pain, and Dean's fist hesitated from where it was held poised above his head.

It dropped, fingers opening to pick up Castiel's angel blade from the seraph's sleeve, and Alex staggered forward. "No!" she shouted, and she forced her feet to go faster. "Dean!"

The angel blade plunged downwards, and the tip tore through the hard binding of a book beside Castiel's head. Alex's pace faltered as Dean pushed himself to his feet, leaving Castiel laying on the ground, defeated. "You and Sam stay the hell away from me." He stepped away from Cas, his hard eyes turning down onto Alex as he walked towards her. "Next time, I won't miss."

"Dean …" Alex's hand went out, a weak and desperate attempt to change his mind, but his fist connected with her jaw and sent her to the ground. "That's for Charlie."

His footsteps faded away, and the bunker door swung shut with a heavy clang. The bleeding in her cheek stopped almost instantaneously, her grace healing the tissues within a second, and Alex pushed herself to her feet as she rushed over to her mate. "Cas?"

Castiel lay unmoving, his eyes staring dejectedly at the angel blade that stood impaled beside him. Blood oozed from cuts on his face, and his lips were stained red. "Hey, hey." Alex put a hand on his cheek, encouraging his eyes to turn onto her. "Are you okay?" She stretched her grace out, frowning to find so little residing inside his chest. She could feel the rest of his grace swirling inside of her, and with a frown, she shoved it back toward him. "You didn't need to do that."

"He hit you."

"Yeah, and he fucking pummeled you." Alex watched as his wounds healed, and she felt the internal bleeding disappear. "I mean …" She yanked the angel blade out of the book and dropped it down at his side. "Christ." Her hand returned to help Castiel sit up, and she shot a glare out towards the door when she heard the Impala's engine rev angrily. "He almost _killed_ you, Cas!"

Castiel didn't respond, and Alex followed his gaze up towards the bunker door. "We should contact Sam," he finally said, rising to his feet. "Dean doesn't have much time before the Mark consumes him."

He wavered unsteadily, and Alex helped him down the stairs to sit at the chair beside the war room table. "Then call him," she decided, eyes turning onto the disarray of the library. "I … I'll start cleaning." She crossed back into the library and knelt down, sifting through the mess of books as she cleared the floor. A glance over her shoulder showed Castiel seated at the table, his head in his hands, and Alex's wings fell low. "We'll find Dean," she promised softly. "We can cure him."

She crossed over to him, wings curling forward to wrap around him, and the seraph leaned into her touch. "I know that we'll do everything we can." With a sigh, he pulled away from her to reach for his phone. "I'm sorry. If I had thought that Dean would be that … violent … I wouldn't have let you come here on your own."

Alex scoffed, and she returned to the library with a shake of her head. "I would have come with or without your permission. You couldn't have stopped me." She grunted as she uprighted one of the library tables, and the legs screeched against the polished floor as she dragged it back into place. Frustration spiked through Castiel's grace, and with a sigh, Alex started sorting through the books. They would find a cure, and they would find Dean. And she was going to be there, no matter what he thought.


	22. Brother's Keeper

**Lebabon, Kansas**

 **A** lex stepped back from the library tables, hands on her hips as she surveyed her work. The tables were approximately back in their same position, and the room was neat, even with the multitude of books still piled across the oak tabletops. She rolled up the sleeves of her flannel, shaking out her wings pridefully at the progress she had made. "What do you think? I think it looks good, all things considering."

Her question fell on deaf ears, and she turned towards Castiel with a puzzling frown. He sat at the war room table, his eyes staring distantly at the far wall, and he turned to her only when Alex cleared her throat. "What?" The chair creaked as he turned to face her, and he blinked in surprise. "It, uh, looks nice. You did a good job."

Alex's wings fell, disappointed by his lack of enthusiasm. "Yeah, thanks. When's Sam getting here?" She scrubbed at a fading bloodstain with her toe, still visible despite her vigorous efforts, and she folded her arms across her chest with a defeated sigh. "How long can it take to drive here from Topeka?"

As if on cue, the bunker door swung open to reveal Sam, red-faced and out of breath. "What the hell happened? Are you okay?" He hurried down the stairs, boots pounding against the metal, and Alex jumped down the library's short staircase to greet him. Sam pulled her into a hug, tight and quick, and Alex felt the tension leave his body at the sight of the both of them, alive and unharmed. "Tell me what happened."

Alex crossed over to sit down next to Castiel as he recounted the whole story, ending with, "I think Dean would have killed me if he hadn't stopped himself." He motioned to his angel blade on the table, reaching out to run his fingers across the hilt. "How is Rowena? Has she made any progress on Dean's cure?"

"She … she's refusing to even start until Crowley's dead." Sam dropped down into the seat across from them, weariness weighing his shoulders down. "The hex bag she made us didn't work. And now … I don't even know how to get close to him, let alone kill him."

Castiel's chair squeaked as he rose to his feet, his eyes dull. "If you don't mind," he began, "I think I'm going to go down to the archive room. Perhaps … perhaps there will be something that we missed."

The seraph walked away, and Alex watched him go with a small shake of her head. "He's stressed." She dropped her head to the table with a groan of disappointment. "I'm sorry, Sam. I shouldn't have let Dean get away like that."

"Hey, it's not your fault, okay?" Sam pulled his backpack up onto the table, digging around to remove his laptop. "You … you're lucky Dean didn't do worse." His eyes turned out towards the library. "You cleaned this all by yourself?" he asked after a second, turning the conversation towards a lighter topic. "That — that's impressive."

"Yeah. Bodies are in the infirmary, so we'll have to take them out to be burned later, and I haven't put all the books back on their shelves yet, but I did what I could." Alex lifted her head from the table to study the work in progress. She reached up to rub at her jaw where Dean had punched her, scowling as she did so.

"How are you doing?" Sam looked up from his laptop, concern written across the lines of his face. "I — I haven't really had a chance to ask since … since Charlie …"

"I'm fine." Alex shrugged off the question, her wings flicking dismissively. "At first, it was hard. Cried myself to sleep. But lucky for me, I'm an angel. My senses are heightened, my emotions repressed. I've pushed down everything I should be feeling because we have more important things at hand." She made a wide, sweeping gesture to the bunker around her before softening her tone. "I can grieve when this is over, but we don't have time for that right now."

"Did Dean … did he give any hint to where he was going?"

"Nothing." Alex shook her head. "I tried calling, but he wouldn't pick up. Maybe he'll talk to you, but I doubt it." She pushed herself to her feet, chair legs screeching against the floor. "Listen, if Rowena won't cooperate, I say we cut her a new deal. The cure for her life. We still have those witch-killing bullets?"

"They're in the Impala," Sam began sourly. "With Dean." He closed his laptop and stood up, gathering his things together. "It's worth a shot. I'll head downstairs and start putting some together."

"Great. I'm going to shower." Alex tapped the top of her chair, pausing momentarily to think before she added, "Listen… Dean said he didn't want to be cured because the consequences would be too great. Do — Do you …"

"No. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it, just like we deal with every other thing that comes our way." Sam roughly shoved his laptop into his bag, his voice tight with frustration. "We're going to find Dean, and we're going to cure him. And yes, I know there will be consequences, but not you, not Cas, not Dean — not anybody can tell me what those consequences are. So I'm not gonna let my brother destroy him on a — on a guess."

"Yeah, of course." Alex pushed her chair back under the table, chin raised defiantly at the note of anger in his voice. "I'm just telling you what he said. I'm on your side, Sam. I think we should keep going." She grabbed her jacket off of the back of her chair, adding, "Like I said, I'm going to shower. Go get started on those bullets so we can get back to Rowena as fast as we can." She waited for Sam to nod before she tossed her jacket over her shoulder and hurried off towards her room.

...

 **Topeka, Kansas**

 **T** he distillery door opened beneath her touch, and Alex made her way into the dark room, her wings twitching impatiently against her back. She silently made her way down the concrete stairs, frowning to find Rowena seated at her wooden table, a styrofoam cup in her hands; even from where she stood, Alex could smell the sharp tea leaves. "Ah, hello." Rowena set down her glass, a false smile upon her lips. "Just in time for tea …" She trailed off, eyes slipping past Alex, and Alex felt Sam brush past her, his gun raised. Rowena blinked at the sight, but she quickly recovered herself, her voice as smooth as ever. "U-Unless something's on your mind?"

"Five things, actually." Sam tapped the barrel of his gun. "Hollow tips filled with witch-killing brew."

"How exciting for you." Rowena lifted her chin, blue eyes calm yet defiant as she regarded the Winchester. "Your NRA will be beside themselves with pride."

"Forget about your deal with Crowley." Alex flicked her wings towards the Book of the Damned, displeased with the witch's quip. "We're offering you a new one. If you find a cure for the Mark of Cain, we'll let you escape with your life."

"Come on now." Rowena rose to her feet as she turned to face Sam. "You and I both know that's nothing but a bluff, Samuel. Charlie may have cracked the codex, but who's going to read it if I'm gone? Not to mention handling the ingredients, getting the measurements just right — unless," she added, her voice rising into an indignant shout, "of course, either of you have spent years of your life studying with the greats, mastering the intricacies of high witchcraft?"

Alex scoffed. "How hard could it possibly be?" She looked over at Sam with a shrug. "It's just some plants and fancy words."

She was rewarded by Rowena's deep and angered sigh. "I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear that," she said, her exasperation thickening her accent, and she turned back to face Sam. "I know you're upset. We all are. Poor Dean." Her voice grew momentarily sympathetic, the note of pity marred by her overly-dramatic pout. "Let's just have a nice wee cup of tea … and negotiate."

Sam's gun clicked as he cleared it, and he reluctantly returned it to his jeans with a frown. "What do you want?"

"Oh, well, we know what I wanted." Rowena returned towards her seat as Sam approached, and she sank into her chair with a graceful ease. "Soiled the sheets on that one, didn't we? Let's talk about what I'll take — my freedom guaranteed and the codex."

Sam sat down across from her, his face dark in concentration, and Castiel stepped forward. "Sam, you can't be —"

"Do you know which spell?" Sam spoke over the seraph, and Castiel fell silent with a huff, his indignation swirling through his grace.

Rowena's lips curled up into a smile. "I do."

"Sam." Castiel's wings flicked across Alex's head as they lifted angrily. "This is a mistake. Giving Rowena her freedom is one thing, but — but the codex?"

"Better than giving her the Book of the Damned." Alex stepped forward to move out of the way of Castiel's wings, shaking her head as she placed her hands on the back of Sam's chair. "Cures always have prices, and the cost she's offering is well worth it." She waited for Sam to nod in confirmation before she shook her wings out, letting her feathers lie flat against her back. "Alright, you've got a deal. What do we need for the spell?"

"Ah." The witch's smile was genuine this time, and she reached for the Book of the Damned as she cleared her throat. "Let's see. ' _Sumsu mimma ezebu ilu ma ikkibu lu._ ' " Her brow furrowed momentarily in concentration as she searched her brain for the translation. "S-Something made by God, but forbidden to man."

"Forbidden?" Sam repeated, and Castiel added after a moment, "The forbidden fruit?"

Sam scoffed at the notion, shaking his head. "No." His hazel eyes turned onto Rowena, who was watching Castiel with an interested look, and Sam's eyes stretched wide incredulously. "You mean the actual apple is the first ingredient?" He looked over at Alex, and she frowned, her own face mimicking his exasperation, but the only thing she could do shrug. "Okay, uh, what's next?"

Rowena's eyes had already dropped down onto the Book, her lips barely moving as she murmured out the next line. " ' _Sumsu mimma ezebu lu ma ikkibu ilu._ ' "

"Something made by man but forbidden by God," Alex finished as the Sumerian words translated in her head.

The group fell silent, and Sam frowned, hesitant to speak up. "Okay," he finally began, "uh, well, God forbade false idols, right?"

"Yeah, like the Golden Calf," Alex agreed, and she circled around to drop down onto the corner of the table next to Sam. "Except that was destroyed a couple thousand years ago."

Their conversation went unheard by Rowena, whose attention was still on the Book of the Damned. " ' _Sumsu mimma sen arramu,_ ' " she finished, and Alex glanced over to find that her face was dark, her lips pulled tight into a frown.

"Well?" she prompted, her grace twisting in curiosity at what had the witch so concerned. "What's the third ingredient?"

"Oh." Rowena looked up, her blue eyes flashing momentarily in defiance before it fell away. "Well, the third ingredient, it's impossible." Alex hummed curiously, and Rowena pushed the book away with two fingers. "Loosely translated — my heart."

Castiel scoffed from where he stood. "It's not impossible at all."

"Not my literal heart, feathers." Rowena rolled her eyes, and the seraph glowered angrily at the stinging retort. "Something I love — the spell calls for me to kill it. A sacrifice. The book will grant freedom from the curse, but it wants something in return."

"Well, then give it," Sam snapped, and Rowena's voice rose alongside his.

"Give me something I love, I'll kill it," she countered. "I want my freedom too much to make a fuss over _that_. The — the problem is, I don't love anything."

"What about Crowley?"

Alex couldn't help but cough out a laugh, and Rowena tossed an amused look in Castiel's direction. "Happy to kill him," she reminded. "Let's not call that love."

"I don't believe you." Castiel crossed the room to stand beside Rowena, and the witch smoothly rose to her feet to match his height. "Everyone loves something." He pressed two fingers up against Rowena's forehead, and Alex closed her eyes as she followed his grace into the witch's head.

A field unfolded before her, fuzzy around the edges, and young boy came into focus, a black goat walking at his side. "Oskar!" A voice rang through her head, and Alex's grace fluttered in surprise; despite the young and vibrant intonations, it undeniably belonged to Rowena. "Oskar!" The young boy turned at the sound of his name, a small smile upon his face. " _Czas Na kolacje!_ "

 _It's time for dinner_. The Polish translated in her mind, and Alex watched as the boy Oskar waved to Rowena. Happiness pulsed through her, transferred from the witch's inner mind, and then Castiel's grace pulled away, snapping back into his body. "Polish boy," he relayed. "Oskar."

"I-I'm sorry. Oskar?" Rowena's eyes widened, her facade of confidence momentarily fading. "You saw Oskar?"

"Who is he?" Sam shifted in his chair as he looked between Rowena and Castiel with a frown.

"Who _was_ he?" Rowena repeated. "Uh, a peasant boy — his family helped me through some difficulties three hundred years ago." She blinked rapidly, confused at the information that had surfaced, but she was saved from further continuing her explanation when Sam's phone rang.

The Winchester rose to his feet with a frown, and Alex watched him cross the room to stand in the corner. "Where is he now?" she asked, turning back to Rowena. "Three hundred years — he's got to be long dead by now." When Rowena didn't respond, her eyes already fallen back on to the Book of the Damned, Alex turned back to Castiel with a sigh. "Well, I suppose we should focus on the other two for now," she reluctantly admitted. "Any ideas?"

Castiel's eyes flickered past her, and Alex turned to watch Sam approach, a frown upon his face. "What's going on?" Castiel stepped past her to meet the Winchester halfway.

"Cas, take this." Sam dug around in his pocket before producing a small ziploc bag. "It's Dean's hair. You need it for the spell." Castiel's mouth opened, ready to protest, but Sam was faster. "Cas, I need you to do this for me. Make the spell happen whatever it takes, please."

"What? What's going on?" Alex shot a glance over her shoulder to ensure Rowena's attention was still on the Book and not on them. "Who was that on the phone? Was it Dean?"

"Rudy." Sam's answer was terse. "He's with Dean in Nebraska working a case. He's — he's not doing well around others. I'm headed there now. And, no, you're not coming with," he quickly added when Alex started to agree, and the angel's head snapped back in surprise. "Stay here with Castiel and finish the spell. You're needed here." He clapped Alex on the shoulder as he stepped past, and he squeezed gently. "I'll keep you updated. Get this done."

"Yeah, sure thing." Alex watched the hunter walk away, and her shoulders fell as he disappeared from sight. "I guess … I guess I'll just stay here then." She crossed back over to the table and dropped down into Sam's old seat with a huff. "Okay, how are we going to find these ingredients?"

The look on Castiel's face had her head falling back, a groan pulled from her throat. "I know you don't like it," Castiel quietly agreed, "but Crowley is our best shot." He ignored Rowena's scoff, and he crossed the room to pick up the Book of the Damned. "I'll return this once we are back," he informed her, and Alex couldn't help but smirk at Rowena's indignation. "We won't be long."

...

 **T** he clouds parted, revealing the half moon high above their heads as Alex stepped out of her Marquis, shoving the keys deep into her pocket. Castiel was two steps ahead of her, already on his knees in the middle of the dirt road, and Alex leaned up against the hood as she watched. "Couldn't I just send him a text?" she asked, watching as he produced a small wooden bowl and vial of herbs from his pocket. "I could get him here pretty quickly."

"I doubt he'll be in any mood to listen after last time." Castiel dumped the vial's contents into the bowl, and Alex rolled her eyes as he lit the spell on fire with a snap of his grace. "This will ensure that he appears. _Daemon, esto subjecto voluntati meae._ "

Castiel straightened up as he finished the incantation, looking around the darkened road with a frown. The air was silent, and the only sign of Crowley's arrival was a shimmer of air and a faint hint of sulphur. "Who summons anymore?" The King of Hell scoffed loudly as Castiel spun around to face him. "Couldn't you call?"

"You're not in my contacts list."

"What?" Crowley's dark eyes narrowed in surprise, flickering over to Alex, and she pushed herself off of the car to make her way to Castiel's side.

"I need your assistance," Castiel continued, ignoring Crowley's interruption. "To help cure Dean of the Mark."

"What's the expression? I gave it at the office?" Crowley momentarily looked thoughtful before his voice rose into an shout. "Maybe I'd feel a little different if Sam Winchester hadn't just tried to bloody _kill_ me!"

His eyes once again turned onto Alex, who scoffed as she stopped beside Castiel, her arms folded across her chest. She could feel Castiel's anger, boiling inside of his chest. However, only the faint rumble in his tone conveyed his frustrations. "I'm afraid 'no' is not an acceptable answer."

"Or what?" Crowley's challenge was met by Castiel's flared wings, and his hand came to rest inches from the demon's face. His grace sparked through the air, eyes narrowed as he stared Crowley down, but Crowley didn't bat an eye. "That's right," he taunted. "Burn those blue eyes. Spread those broken wings and destroy me!" Castiel didn't move, and he added, "Or … do it my way."

Alex shifted on the dirt road, watching Castiel curiously. She could feel his anger; would he actually kill Crowley? Why hadn't Crowley ordered her to stop him? Her eyes narrowed as she watched the demon. He didn't think Castiel could do it.

The seconds dragged on, and then, finally, Castiel's hand fell back down to his side. "Right." Barely disguised amusement flickered in Crowley's eyes. "Now … beg."

"What?"

"Blast me, or beg." This time, Crowley didn't bother to hide his smile, and Alex's feathers ruffled angrily when Castiel's wings fell down to his side.

"Crowley …"

"King!" Crowley corrected, and he tutted when Alex huffed. "Not now, darling. I can make you grovel whenever I want, but I want him to do it."

He turned back to Castiel, and the seraph's jaw tightened before he finally gave in. "King," he relented. "If you — if you would — if you would be so kind …" He forced the words out, his wings extending slightly downwards in a show of submission. "The three ingredients on this list."

He held the torn sheet of paper out, and Crowley took it from his hands, eyes scanning the scrawled words that Castiel had hastily written. "Forbidden fruit," he read, eyes rolling as he let out a scoff. "Well, for starters, it's a quince, you dummy, not an apple. No problem. Golden Calf — or what's left of it … check." Alex's eyes lifted wide in surprise as he checked each item off of the list, and the demon finally hesitated as he came to the final ingredient. "Something Rowena loves?"

"I would've thought it would have been you," Castiel hesitantly admitted, "but …"

Crowley held up a hand to cut him off. "Spare me. I've lived it." He looked past Castiel to lock eyes with Alex, and he gave her a small nod before turning back to Castiel. "I'm in." He vanished, disappearing into the night, and Alex's feathers rustled as wind rushed past.

She shook her wings out with a disgusted huff, circling around to stand in front of Castiel. "I hate him," she muttered, and her grace pressed up against his. "You should have just killed him."

"I … I don't believe that killing Crowley would break your deal, nor would it have done Dean any good." Now that the demon was gone, Castiel's wings drew in close, and his eyes darkened in anger. "Hopefully he will be able to retrieve those ingredients soon."

"Should …" Alex glanced over her shoulder towards where Crowley had vanished to. "Should we tell him about that polish kid? Maybe he can yank his soul up out of hell o-or can .. I don't know. Maybe he can help with that, too."

Castiel's lips turned downwards into a frown. "Perhaps," he reluctantly agreed. "I'll let you tell him. I'd rather not have to grovel again."

"Like I said, you should have just killed him." Alex shook out her wings again until her feathers lay flat. "An angel shouldn't have to kneel before Hell," she spat, unable to tear her eyes away from where Crowley had once stood. "Lucifer would have put him down in a second."

Castiel's grace roiled. "Well, I'm not Lucifer." He stalked off back towards the car, and Alex cursed under her breath as she knelt to collect the bowl. Stupid mistake. She should have just kept her mouth shut. She followed Castiel back towards the Continental, sliding into the passenger seat as the engine roared to life.

...

 **A** lex jumped down the staircase, wings stretched out to balance herself as she landed on the basement floor. Rowena hadn't moved from where she sat at her table, her eyes still glued to the Book of the Damned. Castiel stood at the table next to her, his fingers tapping impatiently on the wooden table. "Hurry up." The tapping stop as Castiel's irritation bubbled over. "You've been reading for over two hours."

"I'm sorry, but these things take time." Rowena planted her hands on either side of the Book of the Damned as she lifted her head, her eyes flashing angrily at the rude interruption. "And frankly, until you give me motivation to do this … favor of yours, I don't see why I shouldn't take my time."

Castiel's wings rose angrily, and Alex tossed the fast food bag onto the table with a frown. "The hell you talking about? We had a deal, remember?"

"Not _that_ deal." Rowena's eyes turned back onto Castiel, sharp with disdain. "All I'm saying is that if you want another spell from the Book, you're going to need to sweeten the pot."

Alex's wings flittered as she looked over at her mate, a frown upon her face. "Another spell," she repeated. "Our priority is Dean, Cas. That's the only spell she should be working on." She reached down to touch her pocket where her phone lay, adding, "Sam texted me. He got to Nebraska, but Dean had ducked town before he could find him. Dean killed Rudy." The words came out hissed between pursed lips.

Castiel's face twisted, sympathy sharpening the small lines around his eyes, and his wings drooped. "I'm sorry. Did you know him well?"

"Never met him." Alex shrugged, not bothering to give his question another thought as she turned her attention back onto Rowena. "What spell does he have you looking up? It better not have anything to do with breaking crossroads deals." The look on Rowena's face made the answer clear, and Alex beckoned Castiel over with a flick of her wings. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She led the way up the stairs, her feathers ruffling as she tried to hold back her frustration. Castiel followed with a frown. "There is nothing more we can do except wait for Crowley to return," he began, "and once the Mark is removed, Rowena and the codex will vanish."

Alex paused at the landing, turning to face her mate. "I don't want you looking for cure." Her fingers dug into her palms as her fists clenched at her side. "People have been making these deals for centuries; don't you think that if there was a cure, someone would have found one, somewhere?"

"That doesn't mean —"

"It means you shouldn't even bother! If the Book had something, someone would have found it a long time ago! Besides." Her voice dropped from the yell it had become, and she cast a glance off towards the room where Rowena worked. "Crowley's made this contract ironclad. If getting my grace back didn't dig it out, who's to say anything else even can?"

"And who's to say that the Book won't work?" Castiel's counter was quiet and calm. "The Mark is far stronger magic than a crossroads deal, and we have nothing to lose." His blue eyes darkened slightly, and his head tipped to the side. "Alex." He moved closer, and Alex averted her gaze as he stepped into her space. "I know you're upset about Charlie, but you shouldn't throw your life away because you couldn't save hers —"

Alex pushed past Castiel, their shoulders bumping as she flicked her wings. "It's not about that," she snapped. "I just want you to stop wasting your time!"

She jumped back down the stairs, her wings extended to keep her balanced. Castiel followed more slowly, his displeasure evident in the twinge of his grace, but Alex ignored it as she circled around to sit down at the table across from Rowena. Her feathers spread outwards as Castiel approached, a silent, veiled challenge for him to continue the conversation, but the slamming of the front doors prevented him from speaking.

Alex's grace flicked out to find Crowley making his way down the stairs, and her eyes shifted past Castiel to land on the demon as he stepped into view. "Why the long faces?" he joked, his eyes turning across the three of them. He paused on Rowena, and the amusement grew cold. "Oh. Let me guess. Mother showed you her 'mustn't touch it' again."

Alex sniggered, her feathers falling back down to her side, but Castiel's frown only deepened. "Do you have the ingredients?" he asked, his wings flicking towards the plastic shopping bag in his hands.

Crowley dropped the bag onto the table, and Alex slapped Rowena's hand away as it reached out towards it. "The quince cost me a major I.O.U with a Palestinian warlock," Crowley explained as Castiel pulled out the slice of fruit and handed it to Rowena. "The gold from the calf — well, let's just say I'll be hanged under certain sexual-deviancy laws if I ever show my face in Jordan again."

"Exciting." Alex's grace yanked the bag away from Castiel and towards her, and she pulled out a chunk of gold the size of her fist. "What about the third?"

"Ah. Yes." The corner of Crowley's lip pulled up into a smile as he turned to Rowena. "All my life long, I wondered what I'd done to deserve a mother who refused to show love. I pained over it. I built my bloody kingdom on top of it!" He paused, waiting for a response, but Rowena's attention was on the quince she was grating into a wooden bowl. Crowley's jaw twitched, displeased with the lack of response, but the emotion lasted barely a moment before it was reigned back in. "Then one day, epiphany struck. My mother was incapable of loving anything. For the first time in hundreds of years, I felt free." The anger returned, filling his voice. "And then you showed up in my dungeon, we communed, and I began to realize you weren't incapable of love. You were incapable of loving me."

"Goodness, Fergus, save if for the stage, why don't you!" Rowena's exasperation boiled over, and she dropped the remaining fruit into the bowl with a roll of her eyes. "I mean, fabulous speech, but you put yourself on far too high a pedestal." She smiled as Castiel walked away, and her voice grew in confidence. "The fact remains that I do not, will not, and have not loved anything ever."

The snap of Crowley's fingers echoed through the room, and footsteps came from the stairs. Alex flicked her grace out to find the presence of a human soul, almost as old as the witch's next to her. A man stepped into view, brown eyes flickering nervously across the room's four occupants. Rowena's words died in her throat, and the grin on Crowley's face returned. "You were saying?"

"T-This is ridiculous!" Rowena pushed herself to her feet, her face paling in shock, and Alex rose as well, her wings curling forward in curiosity at the witch's adamant response. The man next to Crowley was tall with thick, curly hair that frame a soft, pale face, and he shifted under their stares, nervously adjusting the collar of his white shirt.

Castiel turned to face her, confusion upon his face as he looked between her and the newcomer. "Do you love this man?" he asked. "Rowena, is it true?"

"Course it's true." Crowley answered for his mother, whose eyes were still focused on the curly-haired stranger. "Say hello, Oskar."

The man stepped forward with a small smile, and a stuttered breath left Rowena's lips. Alex circled around the table, curious at her reaction. Tears sat in her eyes, causing her eyes to glimmer in the dim light. "Even for you, Fergus, this is a new low — a cruel, shameful, disgusting low."

"It's only cruel if you actually go through with it." Crowley lifted his chin, clearly revelling in the tremble in his mother's voice as Oskar looked over at Rowena again. "So … who's the cruel one then?"

Rowena jaw quivered, and Alex sidestepped to stand beside Castiel as Oskar walked up to the witch. "You've grown so big." Rowena reached out to take his hand, running her fingers across his knuckles. "Not too big to give your old auntie Rowena a hug I hope."

"I hope I haven't hurt you." Oskar hunched over slightly so Rowena could put her arms around his neck, holding him tight in a warm embrace.

"Don't think about that one moment." Rowena's voice cracked as she spoke, her face tucked into his shoulder, and Alex's eyes fell onto the ground, guilt thrumming through her grace; she could feel it originating from Castiel, and she did her best to shove the feeling away. "Everything's fine, Oskar. Everything's fine. Nobody's hurting anybody." Rowena's voice broke again. "Goodbye, my sweet wee boy."

Oskar let out a strangled noise, and Alex's head snapped up to see Rowena's ballpoint pen embedded in his neck. Rowena yanked it out, and with a choked sob, she pushed Oskar downwards so the puslgin blood would flow into the wooden bowl. The guilt in her grace grew with a sharp, sudden pulse, and Alex looked over to see that Castiel had turned his gaze away.

Oskar's body collapsed onto the ground, and Rowena's voice shook as she spoke the spell. " _Ab manu dei, ab manu hominis._ " She dropped in the chunk of gold before sprinkling in the shredded quince. " _Ab cruore cordis mei adfusuro de aeternum. Tolle maledictionem tuam ab hoc viro._ " Her voice rose as the spell finished, her eyes blurry with tears, and Rowena dropped Dean's hair into the bowl. The ingredients fizzled, blueish smoke rising from a bright flash of light.

 _By the hand of God, by the hand of man, by the blood of my heart poured out forever. Take your curse from this man_. Alex shifted closer as her grace translated the spell, and the light grew, illuminating Rowena's face. Suddenly, just as the light's growth seemed to be slowing, the bowl exploded, sending Alex to the ground. Red lightning shot upwards, cracking through the air and breaking through the ceiling as it disappeared into the sky. "What the …" Alex pushed herself to her feet, reaching up to feel her head as she looked around. Rowena was rising, followed more slowly by Crowley and Castiel, and all eyes were fixed on the hole in the ceiling.

The clanging of chains tore Alex's gaze away from the roof, her wings rising as Rowena's chains fell to the ground. Her foot rose, ready to step in Rowena's direction, but the witch's hands flew upwards. " _Manete_!" The spell had her pulling up short, a cold, unrelenting force that seized her legs and made them hard as stone.

"What is this?" Castiel slid to a stop, his body freezing halfway towards Rowena, and his eyes sought out Alex's as his voice dropped low in confusion.

"This is impossible," Crowley spat. "You're not powerful enough."

"To what?" Rowena let out a small laugh as she approached the table, delicately retrieving both the codex and the Book of the Damned. "Control the legs of a bored king and two withered angels?" She tucked the books under her arm, her free hand pointing in Alex's direction. " _Impetus beasiarum_. Attack dog spell."

Alex's chest contracted, a short, punched-out breath leaving her lungs as the air was knocked away, and she doubled over as heat rushed through her limbs. Her grace fought back, desperately trying to push back the spell that lit her bones on fire. A strangled noise from Castiel showed the same spell digging its way into his bones as well, and Alex lifted her head to lock eyes with Crowley.

"I'm afraid, Fergus," Rowena was saying, gathering up Charlie's notes as she spoke, "that in all your long life, you've never seen what a real witch can do with real magic. I'm terrifically pleased it's the last thing you'll ever see." Her eyes turned onto Alex as she pointed towards the King of Hell. " _Dele malum hoc._ "

The spell took over, a consuming force that burned at her very being, and Alex couldn't hold back the snarl that exploded from her throat. The spell on her legs evaporated, and her feet carried her forward on their own accord. "You're insane if you think she can hurt me," Crowley snarled. "Alex, stop! Stop it!"

The heat in her bones started to receded, giving way to cold, and Alex felt her skin prickle as her deal rose upward, fighting back Rowena's spell. She froze in her tracks, her snarl fading into a hiss as the spell melted away. "No." The word fell from her lips as her grace rose up to chase away the last of the witchcraft, and her legs trembled beneath her.

The world came back into focus, losing its red haze, and Alex gasped. "Never mind." Rowena seemed unperturbed, and Alex's head snapped up to lock on the witch's face. A flash of her eyes was the only sign of her fear, a sign that was quickly quenched as she pointed at Castiel. " _Dele malum hoc_!" she repeated, and Alex stumbled, almost falling to the ground as Castiel barreled past her.

"Don't!" Crowley's fear redoubled as Castiel drew his angel blade. "Please!" He threw up an arm to block the attack, his pleas turning into a growl. "You think you can kill me? You execrable — " He cut off as Castiel knocked him to the ground, and the demon landed face down with a grunt of surprise. Castiel followed him down, driving the blade deep into Crowley's back.

"Cas?" Alex's wings shot out in alarm, and two steps carried her to his side. "W-What did you do?" She reached out to grab his shoulder, but Castiel reared around with a snarl. His eyes were bloodshot, and blood leaked like tears. Alex stumbled backwards with a shout of alarm as his grace rushed outwards, hot and violent.

"Get. Away." The words were short and punctuated, hissed out through clenched teeth. "Get. Away. From me."

"Castiel, I can —" Alex cut off when Castiel lunged forward, tackling her to the floor. Her back collided with the concrete ground, and she grunted in alarm as Castiel followed her down. A punch to her head had her throwing her hands up, protecting her face as her grace rushed outward to defend herself. "Castiel! Stop it!"

The blows stopped momentarily, and Alex saw her opportunity. She threw herself up, hooking an arm around Castiel's head and pulling him down into a tight choke. The seraph reacted immediately, rearing back with a roar, and Alex slithered out from beneath him, sending him back even further with a kick to his stomach. "Fight this!" she yelled, scrambling to her feet. "This isn't you!"

"I — I can't!" Castiel staggered to his feet, and his broken wings flapped in desperation. "You need … you need to run!"

Alex hesitated, her wings quivering nervously before her feet carried her up the stairs and out of the distillery. She could feel the attack dog spell through the connection of their grace, contained within Castiel's vessel, and she almost tipped on the concrete slab as she stumbled into the parking lot. The air was hot and heavy, thick with an unnatural weight, and Alex's head ached from where it had collided with the concrete floor. She slid to a stop next to her car, slumping against the blue panels as she dropped down to the ground.

She fumbled for her phone, pressing it up against her ear as she dialed Sam's number. "Come on, pick up," she hissed, her wings tensing as she felt Castiel exit the building. "Pick up!" Gravel crunched as Castiel staggered off in the other direction, and Alex cursed under her breath as Sam's voicemail came through. "Sam, Rowena completed the spell." Alex craned her neck over the side of the car to watch Castiel's tan coat fade into the distance. "I — I think it worked, but Rowena is in the wind with the Book and the codex, C-Crowley is dead, and Cas is — he's cursed. Attack dog spell. I don't know where he went." Alex pushed herself to her feet, shaking her wings out with a hiss of frustration. "Call me, alright? I need to know you and Dean are okay!"

The other end of the line beeped, and Alex shoved her phone back into her pocket with a scowl of disgust. Sam and Dean were out of reach, and Castiel was out of sight. Crowley dead, Rowena gone. What else could —

A scream cut through the air, deep and primal, and the pure force of it had Alex collapsing to the ground. The sound cut into her bones, so loud that she had to cover her ears. Her eyes turned to the sky, searching for the source, but there was nothing; the scream seemed to be originating from within her mind, thrumming across her grace. It faded, and Alex gasped for breath. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, reaching for her phone with another curse.

She was halfway through dialing Sam's number when a voice came from the corner of her mind, soft and barely there. Alex froze, her heart thudding within her chest at the tone, familiar yet so foreign. It spoke only one word, so quiet Alex had to strain to hear, her wings rising in alarm.

" _Finally._ "

..

.

* * *

 **So marks the end of season 10. It's hard to believe it's already done - I feel like I just started posting it a few weeks ago. This is usually the point where I ask if I should continue writing, but I've been looking forward to Lucifer's return since the end of season 8, so I'm not stopping here! Next season will be up in a few months continuing on this story.**

 **Thank you all for reading. I appreciated all of your support, and I hope you enjoyed it!**


	23. Out of the Darkness, Into the Void

**Welcome back, everyone! Sorry this took so long; I wanted to make sure I had 80% written before I started posting because post-undergrad life has been hectic, and I didn't want to fall behind.I know this a month later than I promised some of you, so I'm sorry about that, but I didn't forget!**

 **This chapter picks right up after the last one, so I'd advise going back and reading the last chapter/last half-chapter to review some of the exposition ... but otherwise, enjoy!**

 **...**

* * *

 **L** ucifer.

Alex's feathers ruffled in alarm, and her ears strained, trying to catch that voice again. Her grace flicked out, searching for anything that might indicate that it truly had been the archangel that she had heard, but there was nothing. Nothing at all. "L-Lucifer." She spoke the name aloud, expecting an answer, but once again, nothing came.

No. It couldn't be. Alex felt her grace quiver, and she quickly stilled it. With a forced, unsure laugh, she shakily pushed herself to her feet. She must have imagined it. Lucifer was in hell, far away from her. He couldn't reach her from where he was.

Alex shook out her wings with a huff, clearing her head. Maybe Sam and Dean would have answers.

Her phone rang, and Alex jumped to answer it, pausing only long enough to look at the name flashing across the screen before she pressed it up against her ear. Sam. He would know if Rowena's spell had removed the Mark from Dean's arm. "Sam? What happened? Did the cure work?" She looked around the distillery, hoping that the tremor in her voice couldn't be heard.

"The Mark's gone." Sam's voice was thick with fear, and Alex frowned. "But that spell — Alex, it didn't just removed the Mark. It let out something called the Darkness — this, this thing that existed before God created the world. There was this black smoke, and then Dean was just … he was just gone."

"Gone?" Alex dug into her pockets for the keys to the Continental, cursing when they weren't there. "What do you mean gone? I — where are you? I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Nebraska. Don't … don't worry about us. I'll find him. What about Cas?" The concern in Sam's voice sharpened. "You said he was cursed. Is he okay?"

"I don't know." Alex swept her eyes across the horizon with a shrug, running a hand through her hair with a tense huff. Right. Rowena's curse. "He just ran off. I should — I should go find him," she decided, and her hand dropped down to drag down her cheek. "You're right, I should find him. Sam …" Alex hesitated, unsure how to begin. "When this, uh, Darkness was released, did you hear something? L-Like a scream or — or maybe a voice?"

"Uh, no. Just a lot of wind. Why? What did you hear?"

"Nothing. It was probably nothing." Alex shook her head. "Go find Dean. I'll get Castiel, and we'll meet up at the bunker. Keep in touch." She hung up with a sigh, reaching out along the thread of grace to feel for Castiel. She paused beside the distillery door, glancing inside with a shake of her head. First Charlie, now Crowley. Rowena in the wind. The Darkness. A shiver passed through her at the name, unbidden and unwarranted, and Alex suppressed it the best that she could. If even the name made her uneasy, then what would this Darkness be like in person?

She shook the fear away; for the moment, it was not her concern. Castiel needed to be found before Rowena's spell did any more damage. "Cas?" She lifted her voice to yell out his name, the shout echoing through the empty air. She could feel him in the distance, far out of earshot, but speaking aloud helped her focus. Helped her forget.

She had heard Lucifer's voice. Once again the thought returned, and her grace twisted at the memory. She hadn't truly thought about Lucifer in over a year; after taking Castiel as her mate, he no longer had any hold on her. And she had been happy that he was gone — so why did her heart still flip at the thought? Was it fear or longing —

"No." Alex snapped out the word, chasing away the thoughts. Fear. It was obviously fear. She had a mate, and she would never see Lucifer ever again. Ever. "Cas? Castiel!"

Alex broke into a jog, her broken wings pulled in tight as she ran. She could feel Rowena's spell as it tainted Castiel's grace, making it burn hot against hers, and her feet carried her down the gravel road in pursuit. She had felt the spell once before, back when she and the Winchesters had first encountered the ginger-haired witch, but that had been on a human; who would have thought such magic could overcome an angel of the Lord?

Her grace shuddered at the memory of how it had almost taken her, and Alex reached up to feel beneath her eyes. The skin felt sticky and crusted, and when she pulled her fingers away, they were red with drying blood.

Alex quickly scrubbed the stains away with her nails, grimacing as she remembered the bloodshot look in Castiel's eyes; she had no doubt she looked the same.

Castiel's grace led her west, eventually leaving the road and plunging into the woods. Brambles snagged at her jeans, but Alex carried on, cursing under her breath as a fallen stick cracked beneath her weight, sending her foot plunging into a puddle of mud. "Fucking fuck." Alex spat out the curses, almost missing how her phone vibrated in her pockets. "What do you want?"

She heard a jaw click closed on the other end of the line, shocked silence following her sharp question. "Uh … everything okay?"

"I'm fine." Alex frowned at Sam's voice. "I'm still tracking down Cas." She pulled her phone away to look down at the time, adding, "What about you? We just talked a few minutes ago. Did you find Dean?"

"Yeah." Sam let out a long breath, thick with relief. "Dean's okay. We're on our way back to the bunker. Should be there by tonight."

"Good, because Rowena — she hit Cas with some sort of attack spell, and he killed Crowley before her ran off. Call me when you reach Topeka, cause I might need help reeling him in." Branches crackled off to her left, and Alex froze, eyes scanning the undergrowth as her grace snapped out. It found nothing, and Alex scowled. "I need to go," she told Sam. "I'll see you and Dean tonight." She didn't wait for Sam to agree before she hung up, shoving her phone into her pocket before she slipped off into the woods.

...

 **T** he sun was beginning to set by the time Alex emerged from the trees, stepping out onto a well-trimmed lawn. A house lay in front of her, set up on top of a small hill, and a barn sat further off to her left. Alex could feel Castiel nearby — no more than one hundred feet from where she stood — along with four human souls. One was in the house, moving about the kitchen. Three were walking out of the barn. Alex could see their rifles from where she stood; even the youngest of the two boys, no more than fifteen, held one. They paused in the grass, looking down at an unmoving shape, and a sharp pulse of fear pushed through Alex's grace; something down there was dead.

Her feet carried her down the hill, wings raised in worry. What had Castiel done?

The shape became clearer as she approached, and Alex's eyes flickered closed at the sight of brown fur. The creature was a dog, its throat ripped out. The air thrummed with the reek of fear and the remains of Castiel's grace. "Son of a bitch." Alex ignored the guns that swung up in her direction, and she pushed past the father to stare down at the family pet. "He killed …" Her eyes swung upwards, searching the rest of the property.

"Coyote, probably." The man's gruff voice answered her unspoken question. "Can I help you, ma'am? This is private property."

Alex ignored him, her eyes landing on a small wooden shed sitting near a broken tractor. "Go back to the house," she instructed. "I'll take care of this." Her gaze fell back onto the dog, and she knelt down, placing her hand on the creature's soft forehead. A dead dog. Now _that_ she could fix.

Her grace rushed in, and the heart leapt to life as the would healed, the flesh stitching back into place. She rose up as the dog scrambled to its feet, bumping into Alex's legs in its eagerness to turn tail and run.

She moved off towards the wooden shed, wings flicking dismissively at the surprise that came from the humans behind her. "Cas?" She circled around the shed, grace rising defensively as the proximity to her mate caused the spell to push angrily against her, an almost overwhelming force. "It's me. I'm coming in." She quickly tied off his grace from hers, leaving only the thinnest necessary strand between them, and the push of the spell disappeared.

"No. He's still alive." The murmured words reached Alex's ears as she stopped beside the door, and Alex frowned, confused by the odd statement. The wooden door swung open under her touch to reveal Castiel, crouched, cowering, in the corner. His head snapped up, his blood-red eyes wide in surprise. "No," he hissed. "Don't — don't make me hurt you."

He rose to his feet, towering over her, and Alex stretched out a hand in a soft gesture to try and calm him down. "Cas, it's me," she soothed. "Do you recognize me?"

Her question was met with a question. "Do you hear me?" Castiel's body trembled, muscles quaking as if he was doing everything in his power to keep himself still. "I can't help myself. You have to run!"

He pushed past Alex, and she stumbled back as his wings smacked against her shoulder. "Cas!" Alex broke into a run after him. "Stop running, dammit!"

"Get away from me!" Castiel stumbled, and Alex threw herself at him, tackling him to the ground. "Alex, stop!"

Alex rolled him onto his back, straddling his hips and pinning him down by the shoulders. "Stop. Running." She huffed out the words between sharp breaths as she strained to hold the struggling seraph down. "I'm here to help!"

Castiel roared, his bloodshot eyes stretched wide. "You have to run!" he repeated. "I — I'll _kill_ you!"

Alex scoffed, and she stretched her bony wings out to keep herself balanced as Castiel tried to surge upwards and knock her away. "You can fucking try." She dodged a fist thrown towards her head, and her grace rushed out to knock Castiel back down. "But you need me to fight this with you!"

"I can't — I can't fight this!" Another blow just barely missed her throat, and in her surprise, Alex's grip loosened enough for him to shove her away. "It's too strong!"

The stony ground collided with Alex's back, and Castiel followed, looming over her. A punch landed on her face, cracking her jaw, and Alex hissed in pain. She grappled at his forearms, pinning them between her arms and the ground, and she wrapped her legs around Castiel's hips, keeping him from bucking up. "Get a hold of yourself," she hissed in his ear, her voice strained with the effort of keeping him still. "You're an angel, not an animal."

She was answered with a snarl, and Alex screeched in surprise when teeth dug into her shoulder. The moment of distraction was all Castiel needed to wiggle free, scrambling to his feet and taking off into the woods. "Ow!" Alex clamped a hand on her shoulder, hissing angrily at the feeling of teeth marks in her flesh. "That little shit …"

Her phone rang, and Alex reached into her pocket. "What is it now, Sam? This better be important!"

"Trouble on your end, too, huh?" The dry voice that answered her was not Sam, but Dean, and Alex's attention snapped from the woods down onto the phone. "Well, get in line. We're gonna be a bit late back to the bunker."

"Yeah, me too. I caught Cas, but he fucking _bit_ me and ran off." Alex spat out the word in a frustration that was short-lived by Dean's snort of amusement. "I heard the cure worked. How do you feel?"

"Fan-fucking-tastic." Alex frowned, trying to determine if Dean was being sincere or sarcastic, but his next words made it clear. "The Darkness did something to the people here. It's like they're rabid zombies. We're holed up in a hospital until we can get out of town. "

"Dammit." Alex's wings drooped in disappointment. "Well, I'd love to drive up and kick some ass with you, but Cas — he's dangerous. I need to find a way to restrain him before he kills anything else."

There was a clamor on the other end of the line, and Dean hung up with a hurried, "Got to go, Sam found a baby."

"Found a _what_?" Alex's words were spoken to a dead line, and she shoved her phone back into her pocket with a roll of her eyes. "Great. Why did I offer to stay behind?" With a shake of her head, she continued on. "Cas? Castiel!"

She plunged into the woods and broke into a loping run. The pace was slow yet steady, meant to conserve her stamina, and Alex reached into the back of her mind to look through Castiel's eyes. The spell drove her out, dark and cold, and she could feel his fear as he staggered among the trees, feel the urges of the curse driving him towards the precipice of unbridled rage.

The air was dark, the setting sun unable to pierce the thick foliage, and Alex's grace rose to her eyes to guide her way. She caught sight of a flash of tan through the trees, and she slowed into a prowl. Castiel was standing beside a fallen oak, his bloody eyes turned upwards. "Brothers, sisters …" His prayer was strained with the effort, and he didn't hear Alex's approach. "I know I have no right, I-I have no standing to ask you anything, but these are desperate times, so ask I must." He stepped forward, almost tripping over a branch, and Alex slipped closer, wings drawn in tight. "I confess my transgressions, and I will accept whatever punishment you dole out. Now, I — I ask you to help me. Please. Save me from doing worse —"

He cut off suddenly, wings flaring out in alarm, and Alex silently cursed as he spun around to face her. "Cas …" She stepped out from behind the trees, lowering her wings to maintain an appearance of innocence. Her grace slipped forward, pressing into his body to try and provide some relief from the violent witchcraft. "Just let me take you back to the bunker. Let me help."

She felt the spell thrum angrily through his grace at her words, and Castiel took a step back. "You need to go."

"Don't give me that bullshit —"

"Castiel." A new voice had Alex turning, wings rising up. "And Alex." Two angels stood behind her, angel blades in their hands, and Alex's grace had hers dropping down between her fingers. "My, my."

"Brothers." Castiel's voice trembled under the strain of cordiality. "You heard my —"

"Yeah, we heard you." The taller angel twisted his weapon as he stepped forward, brown eyes taking in the two of them. "We didn't think you would dare call on Heaven's help." He watched as Castiel shuddered beneath the strength of the curse, and he reached into the pocket of his suit. "Put these on," he commanded, tossing two pairs of handcuffs onto the pine litter at their feet. "Both of you."

"I don't need those." Alex kicked hers aside, chin lifted defiantly. "Who are you? What's your name?"

"Both of you are classified as dangerous." The angel ignored her last question, his white wings flicking again towards the handcuffs. "Put them on."

Castiel wasted no time in snapping the metal cuffs around his wrists, his grace thrumming with relief at finally being restrained. With a scowl, Alex reluctantly did the same, the handcuffs clicking into place until they sat snugly against her skin. "Fine," she spat as the two angels finally approached. "So … what? You're going to take us to heaven? Maybe an angel up there knows how to remove some heavy-duty witchcraft."

"Hm." The taller angel looked thoughtful as he came to stop in front of her. "Actually, I had a better idea." Alex barely had time to process his words before his fist flew out, connecting directly with her temple. The blow felt like a hammer, and unconsciousness swept over her before her body even hit the ground.

...

 **W** herever she was, it was cold. Alex groaned, a low noise that turned into a hiss as she realized she was upright, suspended by her wrists. Her eyes fluttered open to a dark, damp room. Castiel hung beside her, a burlap bag over his head. He stirred slightly as a ringing sound filled the air, and Alex's eyes darted over to the table. "Hmm." Both angels were standing on the other side of it, and the taller one peered curiously over at the phone. " 'Dean.' "

"As in the Winchester?" The other angel looked over at him, his dark eyes glinting.

"Probably." Blue eyes locked with Alex, realizing she was awake, and the first angel nodded towards Castiel. "Do the honors." He stepped forward as his companion punched Castiel in the stomach and yanked the sack off of his head. "Morning, handsome!"

"Efram." Castiel spat out the name before turning to the shorter of the two. "Jonah. What — what's happening?" His bloodshot eyes turned to Alex, and she met his look with a disgusted glower.

"We have questions for you, Castiel." Jonah stepped away from him, throwing the burlap bag down at Castiel's feet.

"Why am I …" Castiel's eyes turned back onto their captors. "I asked for _help_."

"And I asked for a vessel that didn't have psoriasis," Efram retorted. "Shit happens." Alex scoffed, and his boots clicked against the stone floor as he crossed over to her. "You should be quiet," he warned. "Castiel was a _soldier_ before he met you. And now he's no longer even our brother."

An angel blade flashed out, cutting across Alex's cheek, and she clenched her teeth in a hiss, holding back the scream of surprise that would have given him the satisfaction that he sought. "Please, no!" Castiel struggled at the chains that held him upright. "Leave her alone!"

" 'Leave her alone?' " Efram turned, a grimace on his face. "You've fallen so far you can't even see what she's done to you. Lucifer infected humanity, but she'll destroy heaven itself." He snuck his angel blade beneath Alex's shirt, slicing through the soft skin of her stomach and this time, she couldn't hold back the shriek of pain. "If I had it my way, I'd take this blade, stick it in your heart … and call it a damn good day."

"Then why don't you do it?" Alex strained against her bonds to lean forward, hissing out her dare.

Efram held her challenging stare, eyes narrowed as if contemplating her offer. "Nah," he finally decided. "The fun's just getting started." The blade flicked across her chin in almost a sharp, teasing fashion before he stepped back and crossed over to Castiel. "You're going to tell us where Metatron is."

"I don't know where he is —" Castiel cut off with a gasp of pain as Jonah's angel blade dug in just below his clavicle, the tip catching on the bone. "I don't — I don't know!"

"But you broke him out of heaven." Jonah removed the weapon when Castiel nodded. "And you stole his grace."

"And you expect us to believe that he, what, just gave you the slip with no powers, no wings?" Efram let out a scornful laugh, and Castiel groaned as his skin split open beneath the tip of Efram's blade.

"Metatron tricked us," Alex spat, and she snuck her grace up towards the handcuffs, but the metal refused to give. "And don't give me that look," she added when both angels turned towards her. "He tricked half of heaven last year."

She screamed as metal tore at her skin, slicing across her chest and leaving fire in its wake. She could hear Castiel begging for Efram to stop, but the only thing that had the angel pausing was the ringing of Alex's phone.

Alex lifted her head at the tone, her gut twisting at the familiar chimes. No. That … that wasn't possible. She glanced over at Castiel, her face twisting in confusion; Cas had _killed_ him. "You — you're going to want to answer that one." She shakily nodded towards the table where her phone lay, teeth grit to keep her voice from cracking. "He … he gets grumpy when I don't pick up."

Castiel howled as Jonah continued on with his torture, uninterested in Alex's insistence, and Alex watched as it stopped ringing, the screen going black. She turned her head to wipe her cheek on her arm, brushing off the drying blood as a burst of confidence flowed through her.

She could feel the demon's presence before she saw him, a cold, immovable force in the back of the room and in the back of her mind. "I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something?" Crowley stepped out of the shadows, casting a disinterested look in Castiel's direction when the seraph roared, the spell sinking its fangs in deeper at the sight of his prey. Crowley tutted, shaking his head as he turned to Alex. "I thought we'd agreed to always pick up, little mouse."

Alex snorted, her eyes flicking up to her bonds. "Sorry, little tied up at the moment." Efram had ceased his torture, his attention fully on the King of Hell, and Alex seized his distraction as an opportunity. Supporting herself on the chain above her head, she swung her legs out, knocking the angel's knees out from under him and sending him crashing to the ground. "These assholes scooped us up a little while back. You, uh — you're looking good, by the way. Very alive."

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw Jonah raise his angel blade, but before he could strike, Crowley snapped his fingers, and the angel flew across the room. Efram, who had by now pushed himself onto his knees, fell flat with a pained grunt as he was pinned against the floor. "We have a problem." Crowley circled around to stand in front of Alex, his dark eyes narrowed as he lifted his chin. "Mother's pesky cure opened a very old box that let out a little something called —"

"The Darkness," Alex finished. "Yeah, Sam told me." She tugged on her chains, hoping that Crowley would get the hint, but he gave no indication that he did. "How'd you hear?"

"Demons told me. They also mentioned a noise that came from the Cage like a frightened animal. As if someone was trying to warn us."

"The scream." Alex shivered as she recalled the sound, and she almost missed how Crowley's eyes glinted in curiosity. "I heard it, too. It — It was Lucifer. I know it was." Efram started to rise, and she brought her heel down on the back of his neck, sending him flat onto the cold stone.

"The Darkness." Castiel's voice was rough with pain as he struggled to hold back the curse. "That's impossible. It's been locked away since the dawn of creation."

Crowley scoffed. "It's a _myth_. Something daddy demons threaten their toddler demons with to get them to eat their vegetables."

"The Darkness is real," Castiel insisted, and he tugged angrily at his chains. "It was beaten back by God and the archangels before he created the universe. Before man, before demons. Before Lucifer was corrupt."

For a second, Crowley simply stood there, eyes dark as he thought. However, it didn't take him long before he turned to Alex, and the chains on her wrists immediately fell away. "Sorry, boys, but I need to borrow this one for a bit." His hold on the two angels loosened as he beckoned Alex forward, and she stepped over Efram with tightly pursed lips. Castiel struggled, but Crowley paid him no attention. "As for him … beat him, kill him, put him in a stew. It makes no difference. If you ask me, he has it coming."

"Wait —" The world spun beneath her feet, and Alex stretched out her wings to steady herself as she suddenly found standing on concrete. "No!" She spun on her heels to face Crowley, mouth hanging open. "You can't just leave him there!"

"Don't worry, princess. Deep beneath that soft and flimsy exterior, your boy-toy is something strong. Some might even say unfortunately unkillable." Crowley cocked an eyebrow as Alex scoffed. "You think I'm wrong?"

"No … no." Alex reluctantly shook her head. "I just think you have to go deep, deep down to find that." She looked around, scrubbing at her bloody cheek. "Why'd you pull me out? And how are you still alive?"

"I fled this body before Castiel stabbed it. My demons were able to remove the immobilization spell Mother put on it." Crowley's eyes moved up and down Alex, taking in her ragged appearance, but he made no comment. "You and I are going to investigate a interesting baby girl displaying rather inhuman abilities."

For the first time, Alex noticed that Crowley's tie was gone, replaced with the white collar of a priest, and her scowl deepened as she started rubbing at the cut on her chin, sneaking her grace upwards to speed up the healing process. "So you dragged me away to play Nancy Drew with you?"

"Try and keep up." Crowley let the way up to a two story brick house, and Alex hurried after him, smoothing down her wrinkled shirt with a deeply flushed face. Blood stained the front, thankfully hidden by the black fabric, and she rubbed awkwardly at the cut on her chest, tugging her shirt up to try and hide the wound. There was no doubt in her mind that she looked like a mess, and she hastily tried to tame her hair as Crowley rang the doorbell.

The door opened seconds later to reveal an elderly woman, wide-eyed with relief. "Father, thank God you're here —" She cut off in surprise as she took in Alex for the first time, and Alex shifted so she stood further behind Crowley, trying to hide in the shadows of the night.

"Gale, my name is Father Crowley. Father John told me you needed an exorcist. This is Alex." Crowley put a hand on her shoulder, and Alex forced a smile, her grace curling at the demon's touch. "She doesn't look like much, but she's a modern day Constantine." The hand on her shoulder tightened, blunt fingernails digging into her shirt in an unspoken warning. "She's the best of the best."

"It's nice to meet you." Alex's eyes flickered up the house, and she let her grace sneak out curiously. "The Father said you were concerned about a child?"

"My granddaughter Jenna brought home a baby yesterday." Gale's eyes still revealed her distrust of Alex's appearance, but her words rang with truth. "Poor thing was an orphan up in Nebraska — that's where Jenna works as a police officer, you see." She opened the door further, inviting them inside, and Alex followed Crowley across the threshold and into the home. She could feel a darkness sinking into the very foundation, chilling the air, and she shivered.

"Nebraska?" Crowley repeated, and Alex perked up curiously; that was where the Darkness was released. Gale nodded, and Crowley turns his eyes across the living room. "Where is your granddaughter now?"

"She went out to get help of her own." Gale gave a small sigh. "You'll have to forgive her, Father. She's a wayward soul. Who knows what she'll bring back." She sighed again, deeper this time before she motioned to the couch. "Please, take a seat. Would you like some tea? I have a kettle boiling."

"That would be lovely, thank you." Crowley sat, and Alex slowly followed, shaking her head to indicate that she wasn't thirsty. Gale disappeared into the kitchen, and Crowley folded his hands in his lap. "So what made you concerned for this child?"

"Amara." Gale returned with two tea cups in her hands, and Crowley accepted his with a gracious blink. "Her name is Amara. And she …" Gale sat down in the chair across from them, stifling a shudder as her voice dropped to a whisper. "She's possessed. There were blocks that were … they were _floating_. Right over her crib."

"What do you think?" Alex blinked in surprise at Crowley's words, and she closed her eyes, cautiously stretching her grace out.

"It's something … dark," she finally admitted. "Something I haven't felt before." She prodded at the air, too afraid to reach out any further towards the strange being, and she quickly retracted her grace with a shiver. "I don't like it."

"Alex has a very special gift," she heard Crowley explain, and she opened her eyes to see Gale staring at her, her tea cup halfway to her mouth. "She's able to sense the supernatural."

The door swung open, and Alex looked up, her grace snapping in alarm as the door hit the wall with a _bang_. A woman stepped into view, followed by a man, and Alex's grey eyes stretched wide as she dug her hands into her knees to keep herself from jumping to her feet. Crowley, however, managed to easily reign in his surprise. "Hello, my son."

"Crowley." Dean blinked in shock, and his eyes slid past the King of Hell to rest on Alex.

"Father Crowley," Crowley corrected, and he set his tea down onto the coffee table.

"Do you know each other?" Dean's companion looked between the three of them, confusion upon her face, and Alex shifted nervously on the couch beside Crowley as Dean's eyes didn't leave hers, his face darkening with every passing second.

"Oh, yes." Crowley smiled, and Dean's frown deepened only further. "Dean was a rather scrumptious young alter boy."

The Winchester scowled but, with a glance around at their present company, he swallowed back his anger. "Can I talk to you outside … Father?" he asked, his voice tight and forced, and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets to hide his curled fists.

"Of course. After I finish my tea." Crowley picked up his cup once again, turning his attention back onto Gale. "As I was saying, Alex is exceptional at identifying paranormal forces. Isn't that right, Dean?"

Dean didn't answer, and the woman — Jenna, if Alex had to guess — blinked in surprise. "Alex?" she repeated. "The same Alex Sam was talking about?" Dean nodded, and Jenna smiled, stepping forward and extending a hand. "Jenna Nickerson," she introduced, and Alex rose to shake her hand. "It's nice to meet you. Sam's said a lot about you."

"Not all bad, I hope." Alex stepped past Crowley, knocking him purposefully on the legs to try and hurry him up. "Where is he?" She looked past Dean, stretching her grace out through the front door, but there was nothing. "He's not here."

"He stayed behind at the hospital," Dean explained, and Alex frowned. "He wanted to stay and help … them."

 _Them. The zombie people_. Alex blinked, unsure what Sam thought he could do, but she reluctantly brushed it off with a shake of her head. That would have to wait. "Well, good for him," she finally said. "Can I have a word with you? I'm sure _Father_ Crowley will join us shortly."

She stepped past Dean to lead the way outside, her wings flicking in amusement at the disgruntled noise that came from the King of Hell. Dean followed, closing the door behind him, and Alex locked it with a flick of her grace. "The hell are you guys doing here?" Dean paused on the front step, his anger finally creeping into his tone. "I thought you were in Kansas hunting down Cas. And I thought you said Crowley was dead!"

"I was. And I thought he _was_ dead. But he's not." Alex rolled her eyes, scoffing quietly. "Apparently he's a lot harder to kill than he looks." She felt Crowley approach from inside the house, and Alex lowered her voice. "Two angels found Castiel and I." She ran her finger down the cut on her cheek before it dropped down to feel the wound just below her clavicle. "They tortured us. Crowley pulled me out to come here, but Cas … he's still with them."

"Serves him right." The door opened, and Crowley stepped out with a quiet _tsk_. "They'll rough him up a bit, but he'll realize I removed the sigils from his chains before long, and then that curse of his will do the rest." He chuckled wryly, and Alex let out a disgusted huff as she followed the demon down the walkway to stand in the darkened yard. "Juliet will make sure he gets home safe and sound." Dean scowled, and he turned to the Winchester, adding, "Oh, don't give me that. He tried to _kill_ me. I should have left him there to rot."

"Yeah, you're a real saint," Dean spat. "Really, Crowley? Impersonating a priest?"

"I'm sorry, aging, pathetic, has-been rock star. Did I offend your delicate sensibilities?" Crowley's brown eyes flashed. "Where have you been? Do you know what your brother and your two idiot angels did?"

Alex's feathers ruffled at the insult, but it was ignored. "Yeah, I heard." Dean unconsciously touched his forearm where the Mark once lay, but all Alex could see now was smooth, unmarred skin. "What the hell are you guys doing here?"

"Same as you. We're working the case." Crowley nodded back towards the house. "I have sources in the Catholic church — nuns that owe me favors, priests with a taste for —"

"Okay, all right, yeah, I can imagine." Dean quickly cut him off, and Crowley gave a small, dry chuckle.

"You really can't. Anyhow, they hear of a demonic possession, they call me. If it's one of mine, I tell them to ignore it. If it's a, uh, demon gone rouge, well, that's when Father Crowley comes out to play."

"So you think it's a demon in there," Dean finished.

"Not even a little bit." Crowley looked down at Alex, who shivered as her grace recalled the chilling energy inside. "Whatever's in that house, I can _taste_ the power radiating from it. That thing … it's old … deep. Dark."

"It's not even close to human," Alex finished. "Even I — I don't want to go anywhere near it. I —" A scream from inside the house broke into her words, sharp, fearful, and full of pain, and Alex spun around, wings flaring out in alarm.

"Jenna?" Dean rushed past her, jumping up the front steps to throw open the door, and Alex's wings flapped twice to steady herself from the Winchester's hurried shove. "Jenna!" With a glance back at Crowley, Alex followed, her feet carrying her after Dean into the kitchen. She could smell the blood before she could see it, her nose wrinkling at the sharp, metallic tang.

Gale lay on the linoleum floor, the last bleeding tendrils of life leaving her still-twitching muscles. Blood pooled on the floor, spilling outwards from a gaping, jagged wound across her throat; the knife lying by her side told the gruesome story well. "Well, hello, plot twist." Crowley's eyes glinted with interest at the sight, unmoved by the violent scene.

"Jen?" Dean looked around, eyes wide, but the dark-haired woman was nowhere in sight. "Jenna!" Dean hurried up the stairs, Alex close on his heels, and Crowley followed, scoffing loudly at the Winchester's loud and brazen yells. Dean paused on the top step, casting a low glare over his shoulder. "What?"

Crowley spoke in an angry whisper, dark eyes flickering nervously down the hall that lay before them. "We have no idea what ancient, world-shattering evil we're dealing with, but go right ahead. Let it know we're coming!"

"Listen, Velma, this isn't the Scooby gang, okay?" Dean snapped. "So either shut up or get out."

Alex huffed out her amusement, but Crowley merely cocked an eyebrow at the sharp tone. "Easy, tiger. Just trying to help." The shrill cry of a baby came from one of the bedrooms, and Alex grace twisted, one half reaching out in motherly instinct while the other drew away in fear. Dean started towards it, and Alex hesitated, letting Crowley push past with a muttered, "And I'm way more of a Daphne."

Dean pushed open the closed bedroom door, revealing a small, darkly lit nursery. A crib lay against the far wall, and Alex paused in the doorway, unwilling to go any further. Dean approached without a second's doubt, worry plastered over his face as he reached down into the crib. "Wait." Alex's voice had him pausing, and Dean pulled back to look over at him. "Where — where did this baby even come from? Gale said —"

"She was born in the hospital where Sam and I were holed up yesterday. Her mom died during birth, and the dad was infected. Jenna took custody of her until …" Dean trailed off with a shake of his head, and he reached down into the crib as another wail came from within.

The crying stopped, and Alex watched him stiffen after a moment, his muscles going rigid in surprise. She forced herself to step into the nursery, her wings pinned tightly against her back as her grace roiled in terror at the growing, unnatural chill. "The child likes you." Alex jumped at Crowley's voice, suddenly so close to her ear and yet directed at Dean. "No surprise, really. You're very maternal."

Dean scooped the baby up into his arms, scowling over at the King of Hell. "We gotta find Jenna." He supported the child's head with one large hand, his green eyes blank as he looked down into her face. Then he stepped forward and pressed the infant into Alex's arms.

"Whoa!" Alex nearly jerked back in surprise as her grace jumped, and the lights flickered above their heads. The baby cooed softly, her big, brown eyes never leaving Dean, and Alex slowly pulled back the corner of her unbuttoned onesie. There, just below her left shoulder, sat the Mark of Cain, branded into the soft pink skin. "I can't — I can't hold her, Dean!" Alex quickly crossed back over to the crib and laid the baby down, her wings trembling at the proximity of the dark, powerful force. "I-I can't —"

The sound of shattering from the adjacent bedroom had her looking up. With a shrug, Crowley stepped out of the doorway and started down the hall towards the sound, and Dean followed, leaving Alex to take up the rear. She closed the nursery door behind her with a soft click, turning her head just in time to see Crowley's hand hesitating above the doorknob to the master bedroom. "Drama," he teased, and with a roll of his eyes, Dean pushed his way past Crowley and into the room.

The shattering sound came again, much more defined, and Alex peered past Crowley to see Jenna standing by the window, a ceramic angel in her hands. She threw it down onto the ground, where it exploded into a million shards. "Jenna?" Dean stepped to the side to let Crowley and Alex in, his face dark. "What are you doing?"

"My grandma collected these things, but I always thought they were so … blah." Jenna picked up another angel and threw it onto the ground at her feet. "Don't worry," she promised, picking up another one. "She won't care. I cut her throat." Her eyes turned up onto the Winchester, and Alex drew her wings in tight at the sight of her eyes. They were dull, almost lifeless. Soulless.

"Why did you do that?"

"Because she doesn't have a soul." Crowley and Alex answered Dean's question at the same time, and Alex cast a sidelong look up at the King of Hell. His eyes were narrowed as he studied Jenna, curiosity written across his face. "Fascinating."

Dean blinked, taken aback by their pronouncement. "What are you talking about?" His eyes flickered across Crowley before returning to Jenna. "How is that even possible?"

"Amara's hungry." Jenna picked up a glass angel, studying it in her hands. "She's a growing girl."

"Jenna, listen to me." Dean walked closer, his voice dropping an octave as it took on a sense of urgency. "Whatever's happened, whatever's going on, we can fix it, okay?"

"But I don't want to be fixed." Jenna took a step towards him, the glass angel held up by its head. "I like the new me. She's a ball." The hand that wasn't holding the glass angel slipped behind her back, and Alex shifted forward, wings rising in worry, but a hand on her shoulder held her back. She looked up at Crowley, who gave a small, barely perceptible shake of his head.

Dean didn't seem to notice the silent conversation behind him, his attention too focused on Jenna. "Just come with us, okay?" His head jerked up as the glass angel was tossed to him, and his hands came up to catch it. A knife flashed through the air, and Dean barely twisted back in time to avoid the deadly blade as it cut through the air his stomach had been mere seconds before. The back of his knees hit the bed and he fell onto the mattress. Jenna followed, and Dean reached up to grab at the wrist that held the knife. "Jenna! Stop!"

Alex tried to shrug her way out of Crowley's grip, but it tightened. "Let them have their fun," he chided, and Alex's grace flared up in anger. Her mouth opened, ready to snap above the sound of Jenna's enraged screams, but a soft sound from behind her had her hair standing on edge. She knew Crowley had felt it too, from the way he stiffened, and Alex peered past him into the empty hallway. "Alright." Crowley's hand fell away, and Alex's grey eyes turned up onto him. "Kill her."

He nodded towards Jenna, the command in his tone clear, and Alex felt her deal swell up against her grace at the order. It burned cold against her skin, and with a curt nod, she surged forward. Jenna and Dean's struggle had moved to the corner of the room, Dean flat on his back against the wooden floor, and Alex's grace snapped out, the force of it sending Jenna flying up into the air. One hand went back to find her angel blade, and in one swift motion, Alex drew it and thrust it up into Jenna's heart.

The girl died with a choked splutter as she hit the floor, and just as quickly as she had come, Alex was retreating back to Crowley's side, shaking out her wings. She tucked her weapon back into her jeans, straightening her back to hide the pleasure at how smoothly the attack had been executed.

"You … you killed her!" Dean's eyes stretched wide in anger as he pushed himself to his feet, and Alex tightened her jaw at the rage in his features.

"I was getting bored." Amusement sparkled in Crowley's eyes. "You're welcome."

Dean's gaze swung onto Alex, and the angel shrugged, reluctantly defending the demon. "She didn't have a soul, and she couldn't contain herself. We couldn't have helped her, Dean. So yeah, I guess you're welcome I didn't let her kill you."

She watched as Dean pushed himself to his feet, his voice deepening into a growl as Crowley turned to leave the room. "Where are you going?"

"To see the child who eats souls."

"You don't understand what that thing is." Dean scoffed, and he took two steps towards Crowley, bristling with anger. Silent as a snake, Alex positioned herself between the two, one hand on Dean's chest to keep him back. Her fingertips barely rested on his shirt, applying only the slightest pressure, but the gesture was firm, her point clear.

She could feel Crowley's smirk, and she flicked her wings resentfully. "Enlighten me," she heard him say. Dean didn't speak, a silent scowl on his face, and Crowley clicked his tongue. "Come on, darling. Don't play coy."

"I think Amara is the Darkness."

Alex's hand fell away at Dean's words, and she cast a look over her shoulder to see Crowley's eyebrows raised. "Interesting," he mused. "So, what now? _You_ kill her?"

Dean gave a short, tense nod. "I don't have a choice."

"Oh please." Crowley scoffed. "Even if you could murder a baby, you couldn't murder _that_ baby. I saw the way you looked at her," he added when Dean's eyes flashed. "Me, on the other hand, it's not like it'd be my first." He gestured down to Alex, and the angel's wings flicked angrily. "If it makes you feel better, I'll have her do it for me."

Dean's eyes shifted down onto her. "Is that an offer?"

Crowley nodded. "It's a promise — right after I'm done with her."

Done? Alex's head turned at the word, and she missed the realization that flashed across Dean's face. "Stay away from her!" He threw an arm into Alex, shoving her aside as he rushed towards Crowley, but the demon didn't flinch, sending Dean flying sideways with a flick of his hand. The Winchester crashed through the closet door, crying out in surprise as he hit the ground. Boards clattered to the floor all around him, and Dean lifted his arms to shield his face.

"Oh, Dean." Crowley stepped forward to stand in front of him, and Alex shifted back, wings pressed in tightly at his violence. "Adorable little Dean. I want that child, and I get what I want. You and Sam don't understand. I'm not your bloody _sidekick_!" His voice rose, teeth bared as he snarled out the words, and Dean lifted his head from the floor. "So I'm going to give you one chance — just one — to walk out that door, or I'm going to take you apart atom by atom. Do you understa—"

Dean's bloody palm slammed onto the ground, and Alex screeched in surprise as she was swept off of the ground, washed away in a tidal wave of power. The world spun, blurring around her, and Alex's back hit concrete as she came to a stop. "Dammit!" Alex struggled to her feet, fighting back the pain in her wings. "Dean!"

She was standing on the side of a road, the silver moon casting its light upon the cracked pavement. With a sigh, Alex reached into her pocket for her phone, using the GPS to find her position. Just north of Beloit, Kansas. Her eyes closed in a quick prayer of thanks before she dialed Sam's number, listening to it ring before the Winchester answered. "Alex? How's Cas?"

"No idea." Alex reached out along her grace, but the spell in Castiel's mind immediately drove her out. "He's alive, that's all I know. Where are you?"

"Just leaving Superior. What do you mean you don't know? I thought you were tracking him."

"I was. And then Crowley — he's still alive, by the way — dragged me away to go see Amara. We thought she was possessed, but Dean … Dean seems to think she's the Darkness." Alex shivered at the memory, and her eyes turned up and down the empty road before her. "She ate Jenna's soul and has the Mark on her, so take that to mean what you want."

She pulled her phone away from her ear to check her map, and Sam's surprised curse was muffled. "— is Dean now?" she heard him ask.

"Where is he?" Alex repeated. "Back in Iowa. He blasted me away when him and Crowley started fighting." She rolled her eyes as she started down the road, seeking out the highway. "Listen, can you come pick me up? I'm on my way towards highway 14, which should be on your way back to the bunker. We gotta swing by the brewery too, though. My stuff's still there."

"Uh, sure." Alex could hear the engine of a car roaring beneath Sam's words. "I'm about an hour out, though. Think you can wait?"

"Of course. I'll text you the mile marker when I reach it." Alex crossed the small country road, her wings fluttering as a cold breeze swept by. "Drive safe, I'll see you in a bit." Sam echoed her goodbye, and Alex hung up and shoved her phone deep into her pocket. _Castiel?_ She lifted her prayer as she kicked at a stone, watching as it skittered across the dark pavement. _If you can hear this, please get to the bunker as soon as you can. We're on our way home._

...

 **T** he headlights of a car approached from the distance, and Alex looked up from the mile marker that she was sitting beside. Her grace stretched out towards the car, feeling the soul inside, and she pushed herself up to her feet as the vehicle slowed to a stop. The door swung open, and Sam stepped out, circling in front of the headlights to stand in front of her. "Hey," she greeted, forcing a smile. She was unprepared for Sam's sudden hug, and she hesitated before returning the gesture, surprised by the intensity. "Everything okay?"

"I'll tell you in the car." Sam pulled away, and Alex hurried to get into the passenger seat, shaking out her wings from where Sam's arms had passed through her feathers. "You first. What do you mean Amara is the Darkness?"

"It's just a thought," Alex corrected. "She had the Mark of Cain — it looked like a birthmark." She touched her left chest, indicating where the sign had been. "Dean thinks that she's the Darkness, but who knows? Maybe she's just a normal kid who's carrying the Mark now that it's off of Dean." Unsure what else to say, she shrugged and launched into recounting the events that had occurred. Sam listened quietly until she finished, breaking in only to express his disbelief or to ask for clarification. "What about you?" she finally asked. "What the hell happened? I thought you'd lost track of Dean and the Mark."

"I, uh, I did. But he actually called me and told me where he was. He was trying to make a deal with Death to, I guess, bring him somewhere where he couldn't hurt anyone. All he had to do was kill me." Sam momentarily fell silent, eyes fixed out on the dark road ahead of them. "I think he was about to do it, too. But he killed Death instead."

Alex's head snapped to the side, her mouth agape. "He killed _who_?"

"You heard me." Alex started to speak again, but Sam cut her off. "Let me tell the story, okay?" he half-joked, the humor seemingly forced through the tense tone of his voice. "Death had said that the Mark was the key to the Darkness' prison, and when Rowena removed it, we opened the door."

Alex nodded, and her eyes dropped down onto her hands in her lap. "Cas said that God and the archangels locked the Darkness away before the world was created."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "That's what Death told Dean. And that God had given Lucifer the Mark, which was what corrupted him in the first place. I …" He fell quiet, only speaking again when Alex prompted him with a small, curious noise. "You have to promise not to tell Dean, okay?"

"Of course." Alex turned in her seat so she could face him more fully. "Sam, what's wrong?"

"When Dean left the hospital, I … I was infected with whatever the people there had. They —"

"Dean told me," Alex quickly explained. "Rabid zombies. What the hell do you mean you were infected?" She pressed her grace up against Sam, searching for any signs that the Winchester was not himself. "You feel like you."

"I'm fine now. But there was this … this darkness in my veins that kept spreading. It turned them mad. I stayed behind to cure them. And myself. While I was there, I prayed." Sam's fingers drummed on the steering wheel, teeth chewing at his lower lip as he thought of his next words. "I haven't done it in years, but it just felt like the right thing to do. And afterwards, I …" Sam's head turned to meet Alex's eyes. "I think God sent me a vision. But I don't know what it means. It was just memories of the … the Cage."

"Of Lucifer." Alex drew her wings in close. "Did you see him? Or hear him?"

"What?" Sam blinked, surprised by the intensity in her voice. "No. Why?"

"Because I heard his voice." Alex tugged at her seatbelt, unsure how much to say. "When the Darkness broke free, I heard him screaming in my head. All of Hell heard it, too, but I don't know how I could have." She tipped her head to look over at Sam, her grey eyes dark and nervous.

For a second Sam didn't speak, and Alex shifted, unsure of how he would respond to the sensitive topic. "I thought the two of you were, uh, still connected."

"Not since Cas and I became mates. That broke it and I — I haven't felt anything that would even suggest he can still reach me. It was hard enough when he was actually a part of me, but now it should be impossible for him." She shook her head, fingers playing with the hem of her jacket. "Maybe if God is behind this, he … he's trying to tell us something."

She felt her heart flutter at her words, but she pushed the feeling down. "Yeah," Sam agreed, "but what? And why suddenly start talking now? Especially about _him_?"

He cut off abruptly, eyes darting over to her, and Alex shrugged, not hurt by any of his implications. "I don't know," she admitted. "And I don't think we should rush into anything either. Maybe he knows something about the Darkness." She swiped a hand through her hair when Sam didn't respond, and she let out a long, reluctant breath. "Before we killed Cain … he told me that there was this … this evil in me that didn't come from him or his bloodline. I think Lucifer may have answers." She watched as Sam shifted uncomfortably, and she dropped her eyes to her lap. "I'm sorry, Sam. I know you don't like talking about him."

"It's fine." Sam's hand left the steering wheel, reaching out to rest on her shoulder. "I get that he sort of — he helped you in a way; you're not scared of him like I am." The hand fell away, fingers brushing across her arm before returning to the steering wheel. "It's just, you have to understand the things that he's done …"

"I know." Alex cut him off, shaking her head. "But that doesn't matter. The past is the past, and he's not leaving the Cage anytime soon." _No matter if I want him to_. She pushed away the sudden thought with a scowl, a look that was hidden by the darkness. "Besides, we have bigger things to deal with right now. Mainly, Castiel."

"We'll find him," Sam promised. "And we'll find Rowena and make her remove the spell. And then we'll deal with … all of this." The confidence in his voice faltered, and Alex turned her head away, resting it back against the headrest as the conversation died and the car fell silent.


	24. The Bad Seed

**July 5th, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** lex followed Sam into the bunker, slamming the door shut behind her as she let her grace stretch out into the room. The Impala was parked outside, signaling that Dean had already arrived, and she sought out his soul. It was in the library, tucked in the back and hidden from view, and Alex pushed past Sam to hurry down the stairs. Dean wasn't alone; she could feel the festering turmoil of Rowena's spell, resting just beneath Castiel's drawn back grace, and Alex jumped over the last two stairs to land on the concrete floor. "Dean, Cas?" She tossed her bag onto the war room table as she rushed into the library, her thin, broken wings lifted as she slid to a stop.

Dean was seated at the far table, a cup of coffee resting beside him. Castiel sat in the chair across from him; red still bled into his eyes, a sure sign that the spell still held him fast. The blood beneath his eyelids was gone — wiped clean by Dean, no doubt. His head lifted at the sound of her voice, a growl rising in his throat before he could quell it, but Alex didn't flinch at the uncontrollable show of aggression. She saw now why Castiel's grace had been so repressed; a pair of warded iron handcuffs sat around his wrists, and a chain stretched between them and the ground, tethering him to the library floor.

"Hey, Dean." Sam dumped his bag onto the floor as he stepped past Alex, and the young angel sidestepped to let him through. "Alex told me about Amara. Where is she?"

"I don't have her." Dean spat out the words, and Alex frowned at the smell of alcohol on his breath, so strong not even the coffee could hide it. "She disappeared." He threw a hand over the back of his chair, turning so he could face his brother. "I don't know how, since Crowley and I were the only ones in that damn house."

"What?" Sam's face furrowed in confusion as he dropped down into a chair, and Dean pushed himself to his feet to join his brother at the other table, leaving Castiel by himself. "So, what happened? Alex said the baby was eating souls."

"Something like that." Dean rolled his eyes, exasperation riding high on his voice, and Alex cast a glance towards Castiel.

The seraph was watching the brothers, hunched over in pain, and Alex reached out along their grace as a shiver wracked his body. "Glad you're okay." She crossed over to stand beside Castiel as Dean launched into recounting last night's events. "How'd you get away from Efram?"

"I … I — it wasn't just Efram and Jonah." Castiel shivered again, and his voice rattled within his chest. "Hannah was using them to play … bad cop. She wanted to know where Metatron was." He lifted his head, and his bloodshot eyes locked on her face as the spell surged against his grace. "They're all dead."

Alex squeezed his shoulder, a thin attempt at comfort. "Sorry to hear it," she said, and she let her hand fall away. "I'm going to go get you a blanket, alright? Maybe that'll help with the shivering." She spoke loud enough for the Winchesters to hear, but neither one paid her any attention; Sam was still focused on Dean's story.

Alex made her way down the hallway towards the bedrooms, her grace sneaking out to unlock the door to the first unused bedroom. She wrinkled her nose at the musty air as she stepped inside. A issued brown blanket sat folded at the end of the bed, and Alex tossed the thick material over her shoulder as she hurried back to the library.

"And she was just gone." Dean finished his story as Alex stepped into the room, and he took a sip of his coffee with a disgusted shake of his head.

"Well, I'll give the neighbors a call." Sam dug through his bag to pull out his laptop. "Maybe they saw something."

"Like what? A soul-eating baby?" Dean scoffed, and he pushed himself to his feet. "Alright, you see what you can find, and I'm going to take a shower. God knows I need one of those."

He brushed past Alex on his way out of the room, and the angel crossed over to lay the thick wool blanket across Castiel's shoulders. "Here." She tucked it around him, her wings curling forward before she stepped away to sit in the chair across from him. "How are you feeling?"

"It's digging deeper." Castiel's eyes were closed as he pulled the blanket tighter, and Alex grunted in sympathy as he shivered again. "I'm not sure how long I can fight it."

He fell silent, and with a shrug, Alex pushed herself to her feet. "You all set?" she asked Sam, and when he nodded, she turned her eyes towards her bag and lowered her voice. "Great. I'm going to get unpacked. Keep an eye on Cas, alright?" She waited for Sam to nod before she jumped down the library steps to grab her things.

She could hear the shower running as she made her way down the hall, and Alex flicked her grace outwards with a worried frown; Dean had barely glanced in her direction since she had arrived — not that she could blame him if he was pissed.

She threw open her bedroom door and slipped inside, kicking it closed behind her. The fluorescent bulbs flickered on above her head, bathing the concrete room in a white light. Like always, the room had remained untouched from when she had left it — only yesterday. Alex fell onto the bed with a loud groan; it had felt like a lifetime since she had last been home.

She let go of her bag, and it fell to the floor with a thud as she closed her eyes. A few moments of sleep was all she needed, away from the horrors of the outside world. No monsters, no spells, no Crowley.

The thrumming of pain along Castiel's grace had her eyes reluctantly opening after only a minute or so, and Alex pushed herself up with a frustrated grunt; no rest for the wicked, apparently. She tore open her bag and quickly unpacked, throwing her dirty clothes into the hamper to be washed later before she tucked her laptop under her arm and stepped back out into the hall. The water to the shower had stopped, and Alex's grace located Dean in his room at the end of the hall.

"Dean?" She rapped on his open door, leaning up against the frame as she waited for the Winchester to pull on his shirt and turn around. "Got a minute?"

She watched as his shoulders tensed at the sound of her voice, but after a moment they relaxed, and Dean shrugged on his army jacket with a quiet, "Sure. What's up?"

"I just want to make sure you're okay." Without waiting for Dean's invitation, Alex moved inwards to sit on the edge of his bed. "I don't think we've been on the best of terms lately between the Mark and … and Crowley." She shifted uncomfortably on the soft mattress, the bare vanes of her feathers rattling as she moved.

"I'm fine." The tension that had hardened the Winchester's eyes fell away, and he let out a huff of air before he dropped down onto the bed next to her. "Listen, the Mark … that fucked me up pretty badly, okay? Some of the things that I said and did ... I'm not proud of it." He hesitated, and then his hand went out to rest on her knee. "Thanks for holding me back. Who knows how far I could've gone." Alex's shoulders fell, and the hand squeezed once before pulling away. "Don't worry about Crowley. We're going to break your deal, okay?"

Alex pulled away, rising to her feet with a small sigh. "Don't worry too much about it. Let's take care of Cas and this Darkness, and then we'll worry about that." She flicked a wing towards Dean, the tip just barely brushing across his arm as she crossed over to the door. "Glad you're back, Dean."

Dean didn't respond, and Alex quickly made her way back down the hall towards the library. Sam hadn't moved from his place on the table, eyes fixed upwards as he listened to his phone, and Alex dropped down across from Cas. "Well?" she asked as he hung up. "Any of the neighbors see anything?"

Sam shook his head. "Not yet. One family's out of town for the week, another was in bed by ten. I've still got another one last number to try."

"Alright." Alex heard a door slam in the distance, and she opened her laptop with a frown. "Dean's on his way back," she reported. "Maybe he's got some new ideas of how to track this baby down." Sam's responding grunt was less than enthusiastic, and Alex turned her gaze down onto her computer as he dialed the final number.

She felt Dean enter the library and drop into the chair across from Sam, but she kept her head down, skimming through the latest news article that was suggested by her computer. She vaguely heard Sam's voice, little more than a low hum, and she pulled her attention away from her computer and onto Castiel's grace. Despite the knot that she had tied, she could still feel the turmoil brewing within him, and she pressed up against it, trying to offer a sense of support. She pulled back when Castiel shivered violently, his grace roiling within him.

"So, that was the last of the neighbors," Sam announced, and Alex pulled back from her mate to look towards him. "Just like the rest." He paused, looking expectantly at his brother, but Dean remained silent, staring blankly into his empty coffee mug. "Dean? Dean!"

Dean's eyes blinked rapidly in surprise, and he lifted his head. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Dean's reply was distant, and he shook his head, chasing off whatever thoughts had occupied his mind. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Sam pursed his lips together how his concern was brushed aside. "Just saying we got nothing," he finally repeated. "No one saw anything unusual going on at the house around the time the baby disappeared."

Castiel shifted, and Alex looked over in surprise as he finally spoke up. "If this truly is the Darkness we're talking about, it's more of a time bomb than a baby," he reminded, his voice ragged.

"Yeah, but it still is a baby, right?" Dean toyed with the handle of his mug as he thought aloud, and Alex gave an agreeing, yet hesitant, nod. "I mean, the Darkness I saw was an adult. So it has to, uh, grow up."

"Whoa — what do you mean you saw the Darkness?" Alex's head whipped between Sam and Dean, eyes stretched wide. "How has that not managed to come up until now?"

Sam shrugged, but Dean barely glanced in her direction. "After we freed the Darkness, it spoke to me," he relayed, and Alex closed the lid of her laptop, leaning forward to take in every word. "Well, _she_ spoke to me. The Darkness is a woman. She was, uh, an adult, black dress, brown hair. She had the Mark of Cain right here." He tapped his left chest, and Alex frowned.

"Same as Amara."

"Same as Amara," Dean repeated, and his green eyes finally turned onto her. "Which is why I think the Darkness _is_ Amara. Except she's a baby, so I guess she has to … grow up."

"The Darkness is almost infinite power," Castiel reminded, and he stifled a cough as he struggled to straighten in his seat. "I'm not sure what 'growing up' means in this case."

Dean shrugged, unable to answer Castiel's question, and Sam shifted in his seat before he spoke. "Well, God kicked this thing's ass once before, right?"

Dean lifted his eyebrows, and Alex scoffed loudly at the idea. "Yeah, that was back when he actually gave a damn, apparently. It'd be nice if he actually showed up to work for once, but I doubt he will."

"It's possible he's around," Sam retorted, and his voice sharpened in a defiant manner. "Closer than we think, you know?"

His eyes flashed, and Alex fell quiet, his meaning clear. Right: he was thinking of his vision. She shrugged, giving up on the argument, but Castiel wasn't finished. "I believe he made a fairly definitive statement when he walked away," he said dryly, and with a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet.

The chains around his wrists clattered at the movement, and the seraph looked down at them with a frown. "Sorry about those, Cas." The disinterest in Dean's tone offset his words, and he motioned towards the shackles. "Til we know what's going on with you, you're still a bit of a wild card, you know?"

Castiel reluctantly dropped back down into his chair, pulling the blanket back around his shoulders, and Sam pursed his lips as he turned towards Dean. "I hate to point this out, but you all know who we might need to help deal with the Darkness."

Dean grimaced. "Don't even say it."

"He was God's scribe," Sam persisted. "He did hear about everything."

"That's just like saying it." Dean's eyes flashed in anger, but it was cut short when Castiel coughed violently, doubling over with a grunt of pain. Alex leaned forward in her chair, stretching a wing out around the table towards him, but the bout was over before she could offer her support. "Cas?" Dean asked. "You all right, pal?"

"It's the spell." The words came out as growl, and Castiel tightened his grip on the blanket as he lifted his head to fix Dean with his bloodshot stare.

Dean leaned back in his chair, casting a quick glance over at his brother, and Sam grimaced. "We were hoping your angel wiring would fight it off or … slow it down at least," he admitted.

A growl rose in Castiel's throat, one that was quickly quenched. "It appears I simply respond differently from humans," he finally ground out through clenched teeth.

"If you were human, you'd be gone," Dean reminded, and Alex snorted at the fruitless attempt to cheer the seraph up. "With you, it's like it's … digging deeper."

Castiel merely grunted; his eyes fell closed as he leaned forward, and Alex felt his grace draw inwards to try and ward off the spell's sharpened barbs. "You know, Rowena's the only one that we know who can remove it." She pushed herself to her feet and took two steps to stand at Sam's side, lowering her voice as not to disturb Castiel. "But she ran off with the Book and the codex."

"And Sam and I are going to do everything we can to find her, okay?" Dean pushed his empty mug away from him with a shrug. "But so far, we've got nothing. Maybe … maybe Crowley's got an idea where she is — she did try and kill him, after all."

"Yeah. I guess I can try and get a hold of him." Alex scowled at the idea, but a glance over at Castiel had her shoulders falling as she lowered her voice. "He's getting worse."

"He is." Sam kept his voice just as soft as hers. "Alright, tell you what. You two see if you can get a hold of Crowley and find a lead on Rowena. I'll start looking into tracking down Metatron."

...

 **"C** ome on, Crowley, pick up." Dean's words had Alex lifting her head, and she leaned back in her chair to watch the Winchester pace back and forth across the library floor. "I've left you a dozen messages. Why isn't he answering the phone?" The Winchester shoved his cellphone deep into his pocket, and Alex blinked in surprise as she realized that his last statement was directed at her.

"Because he's a dick," she snapped, and she chanced a look over at her own phone with a loud scoff. "Dean, he wouldn't even answer me. There's no way in hell he'll talk to you."

"He won't answer." The sound of Castiel's voice had both Alex and Dean turning their eyes onto him. "He's not gonna deliver Rowena to us just so she can lift the spell. He'd rather let it do whatever it's doing to me."

"He's got to be up to something." Dean spat out the words, and Alex rolled her eyes.

"Not exactly breaking news," Sam reminded, and he brushed back a loose strand of hair out of his face as he looked over at Castiel. "Metatron is also off the grid. He stole your car in Blaine, Missouri, right?"

Castiel nodded, and Alex added, "Yeah, that's right. Why, have you found it?"

"No." Sam shook his head, and Alex's shoulders fell in disappointment. "No accidents, incidents, violations, or anything remotely interesting involving a crappy '78 Continental Mark V."

"You think it's crappy?" Castiel's head lifted, eyes narrowed in hurt, and Alex flicked an apologetic wing in his direction, the feathers brushing up against the spine of his broken wing.

Sam's eyes stretched wide, and he looked over at Dean. "Eye of the beholder," Dean promised, coming to his brother's rescue, and Sam echoed him with a quick nod.

Castiel's bloodshot eyes flickered between the two of them, unsure of the sincerity in their words, but he adjusted the blanket across his shoulders with a shrug. "A shut-in for centuries, former scribe of God," he muttered. "You wouldn't think he would be a good driver."

Once again, Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and this time Alex joined them, catching a flicker of doubt in Sam's hazel eyes. "You know what?" he decided. "I'll look for unusual occurrences at places he might hang out. Cas?"

Castiel didn't respond, his eyes focused on the ground, and Alex flicked him again, pushing against his grace with her own. "Castiel," she repeated. "Places that Metatron might hang out. Any ideas?" Castiel remained silent, and when his eyes fell closed, Alex lifted her head, eyes rolled back as she tried to think. "Uh … I think he likes waffles," she finally said. "So, places with waffles?"

Her words were met with Dean's scorn. "Right. So, you mean every restaurant in the entire country. Great. Thanks, Alex." His eyes turned to Castiel, and the sharpness died from his gaze. "Cas?"

A loud, pained groan fell from the seraph's lips, and he keeled forward onto the floor. Alex's chair hit the ground as she jumped up to catch him, but he slipped through her grasp and hit the ground with a heavy thud. "Cas?" Alex fell down beside him, her wings stretching out to steady herself as her knees crashed into the wooden floor. "Hey, hey, Cas!"

Castiel's eyes rolled back as he started to seize, and Alex pushed her grace up against his, her hands hovering above his body as the seraph tremored. "Cas, hey! Easy!" Dean dropped down next to her, grabbing onto Castiel's shoulders to try and hold him still him.

As soon as the seizure had started, it ended, and Castiel's head thudded against the floor as he went limp. "Hey. Cas, hey." Alex cupped his cheek, pressing her grace up against him until he opened his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Relative to what?" Castiel's eyes fell closed again as he rolled onto his back, grunting in pain at the movement.

Dean was there to steady him, and Alex shifted back to make room. "You know where you are?" he asked, and Castiel reluctantly opened his eyes once again at Dean's urgent tone. "What's the date?"

"Earth. Several billion years from the beginning." With another grunt, Castiel tried to push himself up, and Dean grabbed his arm to help him. Alex did the same, easily lifting the seraph to his feet, and she shifted backwards to help him sit down in his chair. "It's like I was … inside a blender that was set to puree for tomato salsa," she heard him mutter, and Alex flicked a gentle wing against him as she adjusted the blanket upon his shoulders.

"And you're the tomato?" Dean guessed, stepping back, and Castiel lifted his head.

"In this analogy, yes," he agreed, and his broken wings shifted against the wool blanket as he reached up to pull it tighter.

"Cas, what was that?" Sam leaned back against the table, his face darkened in worry. "You scared the shit out of us."

"I blacked out." Castiel's eyes fell back onto the ground, and Alex felt his grace twist in pain against hers. "But I … I don't know. It overwhelmed me. I-I couldn't control it."

"Yeah, hell of an understatement there, buddy." Alex dropped back down into her seat with a shake of her head, and she exchanged a look with Sam before she turned back to Cas. "We need to find that witch. You can't keep going like this."

"What can I do to help?" Castiel tried to rise to his feet, but a quick push of Alex's grace against his had him falling back down in defeat.

Sam pushed himself off the table, ready to help the seraph sit back. "No, no, no, you just, uh, sit there and take a breather," he insisted. "Try and put yourself back together."

"Okay. I'll do my best." Castiel's shoulders fell as Sam returned to his laptop, and his fingers tightened in the hem of his blanket. "It's … it's difficult with these voices."

"Voices?" Alex's eyes stretched wide in surprise, and she quickly looked between Sam and Dean, her grace pressing up against Castiel in concern. "What do you mean, you're hearing voices now?"

Dean dropped down into his chair, and the legs scraped as he turned it slightly to face Castiel. "Are these voices telling you to hurt someone?" he pressed.

Castiel blinked, surprised at the urgency in their tone. "No. Guys — I'm hearing angel radio." Frustration lined his voice as he gave his blanket a sharp yank, and Alex narrowed her eyes as he turned to her. "It's a lot of chatter. Don't you hear it?"

"I turned angel radio off a long time ago," Alex admitted. "Hell, I'd forgotten about it completely."

She watched as Castiel's lips turned downwards in the faint hint of a frown, and she shrugged as he turned back to Dean. "They're … they've been looking for me ever since I escaped, as well as scouring the earth for the perp. It's slang for 'perpetrator,' " he quickly added.

Dean snorted, amused at Castiel's decision to explain, and Alex watched as Sam's eyes flickered towards his brother. "Yeah, thank you," he told Cas. "Uh, a-any … 'perp' in particular?"

"Metatron." The frown in Castiel's tone made it clear that the answer should have been obvious. "They're doubling the efforts to find him, so … if we need to get a hold of him, we better do it soon."

"Yeah, before the God squad does," Dean finished, and Alex reached for her phone when it buzzed loudly against the table. "All right, well, first things first."

 _Have a moment, kitten? Meet me outside_. The message flashed under Crowley's name, and Alex's eyes fell shut, her shoulders falling. In her dismay, she almost missed Sam's question, and she quickly hid her phone from sight as she cleared her throat. "Uh, yeah, everything's fine," she lied. "There's just something I need to do." She slid out of her chair, pausing as she looked over at Castiel. "Are you going to be okay for a little bit? I won't be long."

Castiel nodded, and Alex hurried out of the library, throwing her phone into her pocket as she ascended the metal stairs and stepped out into the summer air. "Crowley?" Alex stepped up onto the dirt road, her wings twitching at the hot breeze that rushed past. "Where you at?"

The breeze suddenly ceased, and Alex felt the air shift behind her. She turned slowly, eyes narrowed as she looked the King of Hell up and down. "What do you want? If this is about Amara —"

"It's not." Something flickered deep inside Crowley's eyes, an emotion the angel couldn't place, and it was gone so quickly it simply might not have existed. "Denver, Colorado. There's a cafe there where Rowena is right now. I want her." He ground out his mother's name, and even Alex stiffened in surprise. "Alive, preferably, but dead works just as well. "

"I — Cas is still under her spell." Alex glanced back towards the bunker, and she felt her wings tremble before she drew them in tight. "We need her _alive_." She could get Dean out here with one quick prayer to Castiel. Maybe if she did —

"Bring her to me." Crowley's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice deepening with authority, and Alex felt her deal rise against her grace, a dark, oozing urge that pushed her towards deference. The thought of calling for help immediately disappeared, melting away like the morning mist.

The fight left her being, and Alex squared her jaw at the realization; if Crowley noticed, it was hidden beneath his already smug grin. "Fine. I'll do what I can. Take me there now."

The ground spun beneath her feet, and Alex's wings stretched out to steady herself as the dirt road under her hardened into concrete. A car blared its horn from somewhere behind them, and the angel jumped before she could steel herself. She turned, looking for Crowley, but the King of Hell was nowhere to be seen. "Son of a …" Alex swallowed the curse, and her eyes landed on the building across the street. Cafe Eltra. That's where she was supposed to go.

She darted across the road, weaving among the parked cars as she strolled towards the awning that stretched out over the cafe's door. She reached out to grab the railing, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Alex spun around, wings rising in surprise to find a dark-haired man standing at her side. "Crowley told me you would be coming." The man's eyes flashed black, and Alex shoved down a scowl.

"And he told me that Rowena is in there." Alex flicked her wing towards the door, and the demon's eyes followed the gesture. "I didn't realize I was going to have company."

"Rowena's not the only witch inside. I counted two others, possibly more," the demon said, and Alex frowned at the displeasure in his voice. "I'll go in through the front. You go around to the back in case she tries to escape."

"And this is because Crowley put you in charge, naturally." Alex lifted her chin to match the demon's height, her wings rising in a hint of a threat. The demon grinned, and she added, "You really think I'm going to let you walk into a restaurant and start killing? You're delusional."

"And what are you going to do? Walk in there, flash a badge before you shoot up a guest? You really want your face plastered all over the no-fly list?" The demon motioned to his own face with a dark chuckle. "Me, I'll just toss this meatsuit as soon as I'm done. Easy clean up."

A man brushed past Alex on the sidewalk, and the angel drew her wings in tight, her eyes turning out across the street. "Fine," she finally relented, and she let her pale grey eyes flash with grace. "But if Rowena gets away, it's on you." She stalked away, slipping down the darkened alley with a disgusted huff.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and Alex looked down in time to see Sam's name flash across the screen. "Sorry, Sam." Alex flipped the device onto silent and shoved it back into her pocket with a shake of her head as her deal twisted within her, a dark, low warning. "Gotta get back to you later."

She settled down against the stone wall, her eyes fixed on the back door as she waited. It only took a minute, maybe less, before she heard a commotion from within, and she drew her weapon as rapid footsteps approached. The door flew open and a woman rushed out, eyes wide in fear. Alex jumped forward, angel blade extended as she sized the woman up, and the woman slid to a stop. " _Invocabo belau_ —"

The witch's curse cut off as Alex lunged forward, swinging her weapon through the air. The first blow was dodged, and the angel's wings steadied her as she spun away. She twisted her weapon in her hand and jabbed the hilt into the witch's side, and was immediately rewarded by a gasp of pain as the woman doubled over. That moment of weakness was all Alex needed, and she swung her angel blade up before driving it down.

The metal tip pierced through the eye and embedded itself in the skull, and Alex's feathers prickled as the witch collapsed to the ground, twitching twice before falling still. With a shake of her head, Alex reached down to retrieve her weapon; the metal slid free easily from the bone, slick with warm blood. Footsteps approached, and she whipped her head around, wings raised defensively before they fell back to her side. "It's you." Her grace cleaned her weapon, and she tucked it back into her jacket as she turned around. "Well, did you get her?"

The answer was clear by the demon's dark scowl. "I killed two, but Rowena got away." His eyes momentarily flickered over the corpse at Alex's feet, adding, "You sure she's dead? She just moved."

Alex looked down to watch the witch's fingers shift, and she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I stabbed her in the brain. She'll keep twitching for a while." Her wing flicked dismissively even as anger clouded her face. "So Rowena's in the wind again. I _told_ you I should have been the one to go in the front." She jabbed a finger into the demon's chest, and he roughly slapped it away.

He opened his mouth, ready to snap, but police sirens had him falling silent with a quiet snarl.

He disappeared into thin air, leaving Alex standing alone in the alleyway with the witch's corpse. "Great. _Great_!" Alex looked up into the sky with a muttered curse. "Crowley, I need a ride out." No answer came, and Alex cast a worried look around her as the sirens grew louder. "Come on, Crowley. You can't just leave me here!"

She hurried out of the alleyway, hands shoved into her pocket as she ducked into the busy street. A crowd had gathered, their panic causing a commotion that was easy for the angel to slip into. She wove through the throng, eyes focused on the ground as she headed away from Cafe Eltra. Now all she had to do was find a way back to Kansas; Castiel was waiting for her.

...

 **T** he bunker door swung open beneath her touch, and Alex stepped into the air-conditioned bunker with a heavy sigh. She could feel the Winchesters in the library below, their low voices carrying through the still air; they fell silent as the door closed behind her, and Alex watched Sam appear as she started down the stairs. "Alex?" Sam's eyes went wide in surprise, and Dean joined his brother, his hands folded across his chest. "Where the hell did you go?"

"Out." Alex tossed a plastic bag of snacks onto the table with a shrug. "I got food."

"You were gone for nine hours," Dean snapped, and Alex shrugged as she brushed past him to enter the library. "What the fuck?"

Alex's feathers rustled at the sharp curse, but she kept her face calm as she crossed over to Castiel. "It's not important," she promised, dropping down into the chair next to her mate. "How are you feeling?"

Castiel's response was a mere look, and Alex inwardly winced at the deep red that tinged the whites of his eyes. She curled her wings forward, a silent and comforting gesture as she considered what else to say, but Sam spoke before she could find the words. "Actually, you're just in time. I think I've found a lead."

"Oh?" Alex shifted in her seat to watch him return to his laptop, and her eyes flickered over to Dean.

"Yeah. Listen to this. Uh, in Denver, four women were at this Cafe Elta where their waiter, for no apparent reason, stabbed and killed one." Alex flinched at Sam's words, but neither Winchester noticed; Sam's eyes were on his screen, and Dean's attention was on his phone. "Two of them bolted, and the fourth vanished after furniture seemed to slide around by itself. Cops also found a body out in the back alley, witnesses confirmed that it was one of the members of the party. They have one of the survivors in custody."

"Sounds witchy," Dean added as Alex's head snapped up in surprise. "If we leave now, we can be in Denver by the morning." He shoved his phone into his back pocket as Sam nodded, rising to his feet. "You in?"

"I … no, I shouldn't." Alex's feet scuffled awkwardly on the floor, and she shot Castiel a quick glance out of the corner of her eye before she reluctantly let her gaze turn up onto the brothers. "The waiter was a demon. The four people — they were witches. And the one who got away was Rowena." Her fists tightened at her side at the memory, and she turned her head away, waiting for the brother's anger. "I was the one who killed the witch in the back alley."

The silence following her words was long, taut with a tension that was only broken by Dean's sharp huff. "I _told_ you." He turned to Sam, and Alex's brow furrowed in surprise as he jabbed a finger into his brother's chest. "No way she just disappeared like that without Crowley being involved."

Sam didn't answer, his lips pursed together tightly as he studied Alex. "Why didn't you tell us?" he finally asked.

"I couldn't!" Alex felt her deal well up within her grace, and she cut off with a gasp, surprised at its intensity. She cleared her throat to cover up the sound, shoving the feeling deep back inside of her. "I couldn't," she repeated more slowly. "Crowley wouldn't let me. Besides, nothing came of it. I didn't even _see_ Rowena. She must have gone out the front or something. Crowley —" Castiel growled at the demon's name, and Alex flicked a wing in his direction to calm him down. "He wants Rowena dead, but I told him that we need her alive. You haven't …"

"No." Sam shook his head. "We haven't found anything that could break the spell yet. And there's been nothing on Metatron, either," he added with a side glance at his brother; Dean's scowl was enough to confirm the truth of Sam's statement.

"Well, you two should get out to Denver as soon as you can. Who knows how long they'll keep that witch at the station before she's free — or worse, before one of Crowley's guys gets to her." She felt Castiel stiffen as she spoke, his chains clinking as he grew tense, and she sighed. "I'll stay here with Cas. Maybe I can find a way to slow down this spell until we find Rowena."

"Yeah, uh, of course. That's a good idea." Sam tucked his laptop under his arm. "We'll give you a call once we're there."

He hurried away, his long legs carrying him across the library in three strides, and Alex reluctantly let her eyes turn back onto Dean. He was still standing beside the table, his arms folded across his chest, and the angel pushed herself to her feet. "Dean," she started, "listen. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you —"

"Don't apologize." The sternness faded from Dean's eyes, but his jaw was still set in grim frustration. "You didn't have a choice." His arms fell back down to his side, and Dean took a step back. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up, and then Sam and I will leave. Call if you need anything."

Alex glanced over at Castiel, grimacing to see that he was laying against the table, his head resting between his arms. "Will do," she promised, and she let her wings droop at her side as Dean walked away.

...

 **T** he library lights were dimmed, the brightest source of light coming from Alex's laptop. Her legs were kicked up onto the table, covered in a warm blanket as she slouched in her chair. Her eyes were fixed upon her screen, unblinking, as she watched Bruce Willis crawl through the vents, and she waited, breath bated, as the protagonist pulled himself through the narrow opening. Movement across from her had her grace flicking out to quickly freeze the film, and Alex slid back her headphones with a frown. "You okay?" she asked, watching as Castiel pushed himself to his feet with a shuddered cough.

"I can't just sit around." Castiel's chains clinked against the ground as he reached the end of his tether, and he turned to face her with a deep-set grimace. "Perhaps I can find something on Metatron that Sam didn't. I just —" He coughed, and one step carried him back to his chair. "I just need a computer."

"Uh, yeah." Alex pushed herself to her feet, reluctantly shedding her blanket cocoon and tossing it onto the table across from her. "Of course. I'll go get Dean's." She paused beside Castiel on her way out the door, her grace pressing up against his worriedly. "How … how are you holding up?"

"I'm surviving." Castiel's wings sagged limply against the ground, and he lifted his bloodshot eyes. "You were smart to tie that knot." He gave a slight tug at the twist in their grace. "I'm not sure I would be able to hold this back from you much longer."

"Well, if we're lucky, we'll have it removed by the end of tonight." Alex dipped to press a quick kiss onto Castiel's forehead before she stepped back. "I'll go get Dean's computer for you."

"Thank you." Castiel settled into his chair as Alex walked away, and the angel flicked her wings back in his direction as she made her way towards Dean's room.

Her grace easily unlocked the door, and she stepped inside, wrinkling her nose at the smell. "Christ, Dean," she muttered, and she kicked a shirt towards the overflowing hamper. "Talk about a mess." She crossed the room towards the dresser where Dean's laptop sat, and she scooped it up with a roll of her eyes. If he was comfortable to unpack this much, at least he was feeling at home again.

She quickly returned to the library and dropped the laptop down next to Castiel. "Here you go. Uh, password is Impala67." She picked up her headphones as Castiel's wings twitched, a silent gesture of thanks as he opened up the laptop. "What are you looking for?"

"My car." Castiel's answer was quiet, and he stared down at the keyboard as he thought.

"Go to the FBI page in the favorites menu." Alex placed her headphones over her ears, pushing one side back so she could listen to the keyboard click. "Go to the search box and type in 'violations' and the license plate number, make, and model."

A flick of her grace had her movie playing again, and she reached to push her headphones back into place, but the sudden feminine moan from Dean's computer had her pausing. " _We have hundreds of lovely girls just waiting to chat with you_ —"

Castiel slammed the laptop shut, his eyes staring thoughtfully down at the table as he did so. "Was that porn?" Alex paused her show once again as she forced an amused grin, and Castiel's wings pulled in tighter as he cocked his head.

"What could 'Fortune Nookie' be?" he mused, lifting his eyes to meet hers, and Alex shrugged.

"Don't know, don't really want to find out." She pushed her headphones back into place with a shake of her head, but she ripped them off again as her phone suddenly rang. "For God's sake —" She cut off when she saw Sam's name flashing across the screen, and she answered it with a roll of her eyes. "Hey, great timing. What did you find?"

"Rowena's location." Sam's voice could be heard over the purring of the Impala's engine. "The local cops still had the surviving witch in custody, and she was able to tell us where Rowena is. We're headed there now."

"Oh." Alex sat up straighter in her seat, wings curling forward curiously. "Okay, that's awesome. They know where Rowena is," she repeated to Castiel, and the seraph's eyes closed in relief. A tremor passed through his wings, and Alex turned her gaze away as Castiel's teeth grit in pain. "Anything else?"

"That's about it. How, uh, how's Cas?"

"He's hanging in there." Alex leaned back in her chair, kicking her legs up onto the table. "We had another seizure about an hour ago, but nothing we couldn't handle." She flashed a small grin towards her mate, a smile that quickly fell away as Castiel grunted sourly. "The sooner you get back here with Rowena, the better." Sam hung up, and Alex dropped her phone back onto the table with a small sigh. "Do you need anything?" she asked.

"I don't know what you could give me that could help." Castiel reopened the laptop, and Alex rolled her eyes as the pornographic moaning resumed. It cut off as Castiel closed the tab, and for several seconds, the seraph was silent. Alex pushed her grace up against his, frowning as she felt it roil angrily against the spell. Her attention turned onto the knot, loosening the tendrils, and Castiel looked up with a puzzled frown. "Alex. What are you doing?"

"Here." The knot came undone with a snap, and Alex pushed her grace deep into Castiel's vessel, leaving only a thin ball remaining within her. She could feel how thin it stretched as it moved throughout her being, delicate and fragile, and she quickly tied the knot back into place.

Castiel's eyes glowed a brilliant blue as the grace was locked inside of him, and his wings flittered as his back arched away from the chair. The reaction lasted less than a second, and he fell back with a gasp of surprise.

"Maybe that'll help fight back the spell." Alex pushed herself to her feet, holding onto the back of the chair with a frown as she felt her legs wobble beneath her. "How does it feel?"

"Better." The answer came hesitantly, and Castiel drew his wings back into his side. "Did Sam say how far away they were?"

"Still in Denver, I think, so they'll be another six hours at the least." Alex wrapped her blanket tightly around her before she settled down into her chair once again, sending a quick prayer that Castiel hadn't seen her unsteadiness. "Do you need anything else? There's chicken soup in the pantry if you're feeling snacky." Castiel shook his head, and with a shrug, Alex reached for her headphones. "Alright, well, just let me know."

...

 **T** he bunker door swung open, and Alex lifted her head in surprise. She stretched out her grace, quickly pulling it back in when it it it protested at being stretched too thin. That's right; she had given most of hers to Castiel. A quick glance over at the seraph showed that he was asleep at the table, his head barely visible from beneath the blanket. Alex slid out of her seat and moved to the edge of the library, stepping quietly as not to wake her mate. "Hey." Alex leaned up against the wall as Sam and Dean made their way down the stairs, and her eyes flickered over to the red-headed witch that trailed after them. "You found her."

Rowena's chin lifted in disdain as regarded Alex, and her eyes flickered towards the darkened library, where Castiel's outline could barely be seen; the stare was broken when Dean roughly shoved her towards the hallway. "We're taking her downstairs." Sam's eyes darted past her, mimicking Alex by keeping his voice low. "How is he doing?"

"He's asleep." Alex cast a look over her shoulder with a shake of her head. "I was able to help relieve some of the strain, so he's taking a nap while he can." Her eyes dropped down onto the large brown suitcase in Sam's hands, and she frowned. "What's in there?"

"Rowena was carrying it with when we caught her trying to run." Sam hefted the suitcase as he started down the hall, and Alex followed at his side. "Hopefully it'll have the Book of the Damned and the codex."

"Yeah, hopefully." Alex jumped down the bunker stairs, her wings stretching out to steady herself as she landed on the concrete landing. "And she didn't put up much of a fight?"

"She knocked Dean down pretty good, but that was about it." Sam pushed his way into the archive room, and Alex straightened her shoulders as they stepped through the open bookshelves and into the stone dungeon.

Rowena sat in the middle of the room, her chin held high as Dean cuffed her to the rough, wooden chair. Sam dropped the suitcase onto the table, and Alex leaned up against the doorframe as he ripped it open and started digging through its contents. "Mind the undergarments, Samuel," Rowena chided as Dean stepped away. "Imported, of course."

"Where is it?" Sam tossed the dresses onto the table next to him, scowling as he searched through the remaining pockets.

"Where is what, dear?"

"The Book! The Book of the Damned." Sam turned, holding up a small, leather book. "The codex is here, but the Book is not. So where the hell is it?"

Rowena's head tipped back as she let out a small, demeaning laugh. "Do you take me for a fool? Like I'd run around with those two spectacularly powerful items anywhere in proximity to each other."

"Well, now we've got the codex and Charlie's code-breaking, so the Book isn't as useful to you as it was," Sam snapped sourly, and he tucked the codex into his jacket pocket.

"Or so you hope." Rowena chuckled, and Alex watched as her fingers flexed, testing her iron bonds. "That's what I admire in you, Samuel. That plucky optimism. That plucky, stupid optimism."

Dean rolled his eyes, and he motioned towards the door. "Sam, why don't you go grab Cas so Florence Nightingale here can do her stuff?" he suggested, and Sam nodded. Alex stepped aside so he could leave, and she stalked further into the dungeon, flicking her wings in distaste as Rowena's eyes turned onto her. Rowena met her unblinking stare, and Dean cocked an eyebrow. "What's your problem now, huh?" he snapped as he crossed the room to lean on the table.

"You're still not mad about the whole Crowley thing, are ya?" Alex mimicked him, wings hanging loosely as she leaned her back against the hard wooden table. "I know you wanted me to kill him, but I told you —"

"Fergus isn't dead!" Rowena's voice trembled with disbelief and anger, and Alex couldn't help the smirk that grew across her face. "How is he not dead?"

"Because, unfortunately for both you and me, he's always one step ahead of the curve." Alex flicked a wing in disgust, and she glanced over at Dean, unsure how much either brothers had told Rowena.

The witch followed her gaze, and, misinterpreting her look, smiled over at Dean. "You do recall our deal, eh?" she asked, and Alex's eyes darkened. "First I de-spell the angel, then I go free."

"Mm." Dean folded his arms across his chest. "Except for one thing."

Rowena's eyes flashed, and she straightened up in her chair the best that she could. "There were no exceptions in our arrangement," she reminded tightly, but Dean ignored her sharp tone.

"The Book," he explained. "Gonna need that baby back."

"The Book was never mentioned in our negotiations." Rowena's arms tugged against her handcuffs, but they remained firmly fastened to the wooden chair. Alex pushed herself off of the table and circled around the witch, and Rowena froze, her head drawn up regally as she held Dean's icy stare.

"Well, now it is."

"Our deal says —"

"Our deal says whatever I want it to say." Dean stepped forward as he cut her off, and Rowena's jaw tightened as she fell silent. "You're gonna play by my rules because I have your son on speed dial."

"Call him." Rowena spat out the words, and Alex stepped forward, ready to intervene if things were to get violent; would Dean still lash out even without the Mark? "If I'm dead, you've got a big, fat pile of nothing. No Book ever. And your friend with the bent halo? He goes foaming-at-the-mouth mad and dies. Your turn!" She paused, waiting for Dean's rage, but the Winchester remained silent. Rowena's anger faded, and she narrowed her eyes as she studied his face. "Your eyes … so burdened. What happened precisely when I removed the Mark? The Book wasn't specific. What new hell has Dean Winchester unleashed upon the world?"

"Dean!" Sam's shout from the hallway had Dean spinning around, and Alex's wings flared up in alarm. She stretched out her thin grace towards Sam and Castiel, but the Winchester was alone. He slid to a stop in the doorway, his eyes wide. "Hey, I can't find Cas."

"What?"

"He's not there." Sam shook his head, his chest heaving as he took in a deep breath. "He — he — he broke free. He's gone."

"What?" Alex pushed her way past him, and the lights flickered as the faint traces of her remaining grace snapped through the building. Apart from those souls in the dungeon, the bunker was empty. "How?" She turned back to Sam. "He's been asleep for the past hour."

"Well, apparently he's not anymore," Sam replied, his voice dry, and Alex did her best not to take his sharp tone personally. "And he's powered back up, because he snapped right through those cuffs."

"Well, he couldn't have gotten far." Dean pulled the Impala's keys out of his pocket, slinging them around his finger before tucking them into his fist. "Alright, new plan. We'll take her with us and hit the town." The hand holding the keys pointed at Alex, and the angel's wings flittered. "Can you still track him?"

"Yeah, definitely." Alex closed her eyes, feeling along her grace, but the knot she had tied prevented her from seeing through his eyes. "I can point us in the right direction, but I can't tell you exactly where he is until we get closer."

"Good enough." Dean nodded towards Rowena. "Sam, get her up and into the car." He tossed the handcuff key to his brother as Sam hurried into the room, and Alex plucked hesitantly at the thin strand of grace as she let Dean lead the way out of the dungeon and up the stairs.

...

 **T** he Impala roared around the corner, and Alex gripped the door handle, muscles tensing as she did her best not to slide across the backseat. She grit her teeth, determined to keep her eyes out the window and not on the witch beside her, but her intent didn't last long. "So absurd," Rowena chided, head held high as the car straightened out once again, "driving in circles looking for your unhinged angel."

"We're not driving in circles, alright?" Dean's eyes flashed in the rearview mirror, and Alex scowled as Rowena rolled her eyes. Her long, thin fingers adjusted her dress, nails clicking against the metal of her handcuffs, and Alex relaxed back into her seat as the Impala accelerated down the road. "We're getting close, right, Alex?"

"Right." Alex closed her eyes, feeling along the thin thread of grace that connected her to her mate. The strand had thickened, indicating that the seraph was nearby, and she drew in a deep breath as she followed it as far down the road as she could. "We need to go straight one more block. He's moving north."

Her eyes snapped open as Rowena clicked her tongue. "I'm sure I could do it faster."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, maybe you could," he agreed, "but you would have to do a spell, which means we would have to take the cuffs off, and we are _not_ going to take the cuffs off."

"There's no trust?" Rowena's voice took on a note of deep offense. "Are we not a team?"

"No." The three hunters spoke in unison, and Alex's wing twitched angrily in the small confines of the car.

Rowena sighed, and she shifted on the leather seat. "You wouldn't think a road trip with two such strapping lads could be this tedious," she said after a second of silence, and Alex watched as Sam's head tipped back in exasperation. "Shall we have a wee sing-song?"

"No!" This time, only Sam and Dean yelled the word out; Alex had closed her eyes, choosing to focus on tracking Castiel instead of getting involved in their squabble.

"I have myself to blame," she heard Rowena begin again. "Should never make deals with Winchesters, since they seem _unable_ to hold up their end of the bargain."

"Meaning what?" Dean accelerated through a yellow light, and Alex plucked nervously at the string of grace as it momentarily weakened.

Rowena smiled, her white teeth catching in the dim evening light. "Oh, just that thing between Sam, Alex, Crowley, and myself."

"What?" Dean looked over at his brother, but Sam remained quiet, turning his eyes out the window onto the passing buildings. "What's she talking about?"

"Oh, surely you knew Sam made a deal with me to kill my son if I removed the Mark of Cain from your arm," Rowena purred, her face alight at the chord she had struck with Dean. "Well, is the Mark gone? Yes. Is Crowley dead? No. Mm." She smiled at how Dean's shoulders tensed, and she looked over at Sam. "Oh, he didn't know?" Sam didn't respond, and Rowena crowed. "He didn't know!"

Sam's nostrils flared as he glared at the witch. "Look," he began, turning to Dean, "I was gonna tell you. Obviously nothing ever came of it, so I-I figured there was no point, you know?"

"No point, huh?" Dean repeated tightly.

"Oh please." Alex finally spoke up, letting go of the strand of grace as she leaned forward in her seat. "Like you were in any state to hear the truth, Dean. You were borderline _mental_."

"Although," Rowena added, and Alex cast her a low glare, "I do see what Dean's saying. Your wee pal Castiel wouldn't be in this pickle if you'd done what you'd promised. I would've had no reason to cast that attack dog spell if Crowley were already dead. Excellent point."

"That wasn't my point," Dean snapped. "Sam knows my point. Keyword — secrets."

Rowena opened her mouth to expound upon her point, but Alex broke in before she could speak. "He's here." The Impala lurched as Dean slammed on the brakes, and Alex pointed towards an alleyway off to the right. "He was there not too long ago. He's by — no," she corrected, following the strand of grace, "— he's _in_ that building."

The Impala pulled into the alleyway across the street, and Alex jumped out of the car, shaking out her wings as she slammed the door closed behind her. "Come on," Dean ordered, and he pushed past her to stand on the sidewalk. "Alex and I'll head in through the back door, you guys circle around."

Sam nodded, but Rowena's eyes flashed in indignation. "Are you joking?" she snapped. "I'm in _heels_."

Alex didn't hear the rest of the conversation as she followed Dean across the street, slipping in front of him to take the lead. "He's moving," she relayed, and she quickened her pace to reach the alley. "It's like he's chasing something."

A crash came from within the building, followed by a scream, and Alex leapt forward to throw open the metal door. "Cas!" She yelled out the name as she rushed inside, and Dean jumped past her, almost knocking her off balance as he hurried into the dark.

"Cas!" His voice drowned out her shout, and his boots echoed through the warehouse as he broke into a run. "Cas!" He turned the corner, and Alex ran after him as she heard him slide to a halt. "Don't do this," he warned, and Alex skidded to a stop at his side.

Castiel stood with his back to them, his chest vibrating in a deep growl as he held a young woman by the throat. Tears stained her cheeks, pale from lack of air, and Alex hesitated only a second before she threw herself at her mate. "Cas, stop!" She wrapped her arms around his neck, digging her wrist into his Adam's apple, and the woman collapsed onto the concrete as Castiel loosened his grip. "Stop it!"

An elbow to her stomach had her flying back, and Alex crashed into the metal shelves with a breathless grunt. "Cas, this isn't you, okay?" she heard Dean insist, and she forced herself to her hands and knees in time to see Dean place himself between Castiel and the trembling woman. "It's the spell. You can _beat_ this." He waved his hand behind him, motioning for the woman to run, and Castiel snarled as his prey bolted.

His eyes watched her leave, the whites red with blood and his pupils fully blown. "Castiel." Alex pushed herself to her feet, but her plea fell on deaf ears as the seraph looked down at his empty hands, his body trembling and breathing heavy.

"It's gonna be okay, buddy, alright?" Dean took another step closer, his hands held out in a defensive gesture, and Castiel's head snapped up, his teeth baring in a snarl. He grabbed Dean by the jacket and spun him around, and Alex hit the ground just as Dean flew over head, crashing into a pile of wooden pallets. They splintered beneath his weight, and Alex stretched her wings out as she jumped to her feet, positioning herself in between Castiel and the fallen Winchester.

Castiel advanced, staggering slightly with each step, and Alex shifted back, unnerved by the lack of recognition in his eyes. "Cas —" His wings stretched out as he lunged forward, and Alex couldn't duck away in time. His momentum carried her off her feet, and Alex grabbed hold of his wrists to keep him from throwing her like he had Dean. "Cas, stop!" She tugged on his sleeve, fingernails digging into his skin, but Castiel ripped free of her grasp with a grunt. His fingers curled into a fist, and Alex cried out as his punch landed squarely across her cheek.

She lost her grip, and Castiel caught her before she fell, his fist balling up the front of her shirt as he punched her again. "Cas, I —" Another blow to her jaw had her screeching, the bone cracking beneath the pressure, and she grabbed at his wrist with both hands.

Castiel let go with a roar as she dug her nails in and twisted, and she fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Dean jumped in front of her, blocking Castiel from her sight, and Alex rolled out of the way. " _Desiste._ " The Latin word has Castiel freezing in his tracks, and Alex lifted her head to see Rowena, her jaw tight in displeasure.

Sam stood beside her, a revolver pointed at her temple. "Do I need to remind you these are witch-killing bullets?" he warned tightly, and he pulled back the hammer with a click. "Finish it!"

"Yes, yes." Rowena rolled her eyes, but she obliged in the Winchester's command. " _Adlevo onus tuum_."

Castiel shivered, the tremors growing into convulsions, and he collapsed onto the floor, his mouth hanging open and eyes stretched wide. They rolled into the back of his skull as he seized, and Alex pushed herself off of the ground. "Cas?" She scrambled over to him, her knees knocking on the concrete floor. "Cas!"

With one final, violent tremor, Castiel fell still, and Alex felt his grace snap through the air, crashing against hers before retracting back into his vessel. "Hey, hey, come on, Cas." She slipped a hand under his head, pressing her grace up against his. "Look at me."

Castiel's eyes cracked open, and Alex head fell back, eyes closing in relief. She felt Dean move in, his shoulder brushing up against hers as he grabbed Castiel's shoulders. "Come on, there you go." Dean helped Castiel up onto his knees, and after a moment, the seraph was able to support himself, despite his wings hanging limply at his side.

" _Permitte velum._ " The utterance of Rowena's spell had Alex snapping out of her trance, and she watched as Sam's gun flew across the room, clattering on the concrete ground. " _Abi_!" Sam followed the gun's trajectory, crashing into the metal shelves, and Alex staggered to her feet.

"No!" Dean rushed past her, and Rowena stepped back, her fists clenched at her side.

" _Impedi_!" She lifted her hands, and the metal gate above the door crashed down, stopping the Winchester in his tracks. Rowena lifted her head as Dean stopped in front of her, and her eyes flickered across the four of them as she spoke. "I'm sure you had every intention of honoring our deal. But why take chances?"

Alex staggered forward, turning to face Rowena as the witch turned to go. "I'm going to kill you," she warned, and Rowena hesitated, surprise glinting in her eyes. "I swear, next time I see you —"

Castiel shuddered, a violent, breath-taking tremor, and Alex's eyes turned down onto him. When she looked back, Rowena was gone. With a frustrated snarl, Alex dropped back onto her knees in front of her mate. He swayed, and she quickly untied the knot, letting his grace fully flow against hers. "The spell's gone." Castiel collapsed forward, and Alex caught him, her broken wings curling around his shoulders. Dean's eyes were still fixed on the metal gate, and Alex frowned. "Dean. We — we have to let her go for now." She held Cas tighter, one hand against the nape of his neck as she looked up at Dean. "Let's just get Cas home."

...

 **T** he shower's water pummeled Alex's sore back, the droplets slowly turning cold with each passing minute. With a reluctant sigh, the angel turned off the water, reaching for the towel that hung over the side of the stall. A flick of her grace located both brothers out in the library, with Castiel nearby, and she wrapped the towel around her body before she stepped out into the cool air.

The tile floor was slick; Alex steadied herself with her wings as she picked her way across the floor, pausing only briefly to glance in the mirror. A deep bruise still marred her jaw, the remnants of the fight with Castiel, and Alex reached up to gingerly touched the darkened skin; it was healing quickly but, thanks to her deal that dampened her grace, it would still remain for at least another day.

The cold had her hurrying down the hall, and it didn't take her long to throw on a clean pair of clothes and return to the library to join Sam and Dean. "Hey," she greeted, nodding towards Dean, and the Winchester grunted. One hand supported an icepack, pressed tightly against his jaw, and Alex circled around to take a seat beside Castiel. "How's the face?"

"Shut it." Dean pulled the pack away, carefully prodding at a small, thin cut that stretched across his cheek with a grunt. "I'll live." With a shake of his head, he pressed the icepack back into place before he reached for his beer.

"Dean, I …" Castiel's wings drooped, and his voice caught in his throat. "There aren't words."

"You're right." Dean dropped the icepack onto the table, and Castiel flinched, his wings pressed tightly against his back as he dropped his eyes onto the table. "There aren't words, Cas," Dean continued, "cause there's no need. You were under a spell. It's fine."

Alex pressed her grace up against her mate, a relieved, encouraging push, and Castiel let out a small sigh. "Yeah, but you had Rowena. Because of me, you …"

"Cas, we've got the codex." Sam spoke from where he sat at the head of the table, and the seraph's eyes turned onto him. "That's a start. You know, it'll slow Rowena down some. If we killed her, the Book of the Damned would've been lost."

"Besides," Alex added, "we tracked her down once, we can do it again. We'll get the Book back soon. In the meantime, I think we've got bigger things to deal with."

"The Darkness." Castiel nodded, and Dean groaned at the reminder. "What does she want?"

"Well, the big question is, where the hell is she?" Dean countered, pressing the cold-pack back up against his bruised cheek, and he barely managed to stifle a grunt of pain at the action.

Castiel's eyes narrowed at the sound, and he motioned across the table towards the Winchester. "Dean, I can fix that."

"No, no, no." Dean shook off the gesture with a wave of his hand. "No, no. It's fine, Cas," he promised, and Castiel's frown deepened at the rejection. "Besides, I had it coming." He picked up his empty beer bottle before he set it back down, and Alex leaned back in her chair as Dean pushed himself to his feet. "Gonna go get another round. Anyone else?"

He shrugged when no one answered, and Sam got up when Dean walked away. "I think I'll go try and get some sleep," he decided, and Alex frowned as his eyes flickered between Cas and Alex, the expression behind them unreadable.

Alex waited until his footsteps had faded away, and, with a reluctant flick of her wings, she turned to face her mate. "So … how are you feeling?" She pushed up against his grace, and it hesitantly twisted around hers, holding tight before letting go. "There's no trace of the spell left anymore."

"Yes, it's gone completely." Castiel's fingers toyed with the edge of the table before he lifted his eyes onto her face. "Alex, I … I'm so sorry." His hand came out to touch her bruised jaw, and Alex reached up to grab his wrist before his fingers touched her skin.

"Hey, it's okay," she promised quietly. "It's like Dean said. You were under a spell that you couldn't fight. It wasn't you back there."

Castiel stretched closer, and his fingers brushed against her cheek, his grace sneaking out to heal the the last traces of the contusion. "I promised myself that I would never hurt you." His hand moved, grasping her cheek firmly, and Alex felt her wings twitch gently at the touch. "You shouldn't be hurt by the ones you love."

"It was just a bruise." Alex adjusted her grip on his wrist, her thumb stroking across his pulse point. "As far as beatings go, yours was pretty soft. Anyways," she added, pulling back, "Crowley's not dead, so the worst thing you did was kill a dog — which I obviously didn't let stay dead, because it was a dog."

"That's not the worst that I did." Castiel's hand returned to his lap, and he turned away. "I killed two brothers."

"Efram and Jonah," Alex guessed, and Castiel nodded. "Yeah, well, they were dicks, so don't beat yourself up over that one. If you hadn't killed them, I probably would have."

She pushed herself to her feet, but Castiel's next words had her pausing. "And now Hannah is dead because of me."

Alex dropped back into her chair, and Castiel's wings drew in fearfully against his back. "You mean … _you_ killed her?"

"Efram killed her." Despair weighed down Castiel's words, and Alex reached out to place a gentle hand on his knee. "But if I hadn't …" He trailed off with a shake of his head. "She didn't deserve to die."

"Does anyone?"

"You don't." Castiel's chair squeaked as he turned to face her, and Alex's eyes flickered down onto the ground. "Crowley —"

"Don't." Alex cut him off with a flick of her wing, and Castiel fell silent. "Can we … can we not have this talk right now? You need to rest." She rose from her chair, and Castiel followed, stumbling slightly as his legs trembled beneath him.

"I won't let Crowley have you."

Alex's wings rose, her thin, dark feathers ruffling angrily, but she kept her voice as calm as she could. "I said we'll talk about this later," she repeated sternly. "You're still recovering from the spell."

"I'm strong enough to speak." The bristling of Castiel's wings were the only sign of his displeasure, and Alex's lips pursed. "I know you don't want to be saved, but how can you expect me to live knowing I did nothing?"

"I _want_ you to do nothing!" Alex's fists balled at her side, and she shoved them into her pockets, trying to hide them from his sight. "There's no way Crowley is going to let me go, and if you giving up means that I get to spend my last year with you …" She felt her jaw tremble, and she clenched her teeth. "I'm gonna die, Castiel, and all you want to do is run off on your own."

"That's not what this is about." Castiel stepped forward, and Alex shifted backwards, intent on keeping distance between the two of them. "I can't sit back and let this happen like … like a coward."

"It — being there for someone doesn't make you a coward! Even my own dad was there when my mom was dying instead of — of running around looking for some impossible cure!"

"Your _father_ couldn't cure cancer, and he knew that." Castiel's voice grew sharp, desperation tinging each word. "I can fix this, Alex. I — I just need time. We know that the Book has the cure for the Mark. If I can find Rowena, I can _make_ her —"

"No!" Alex cut him off, her wings stretching out. "You — five months ago you were telling me how you were just going to lay down and die when your old grace burned out!"

Castiel's feathers bristled defensively. "That was different. I wasn't going to let another angel die just so I could live."

"Okay, a-and how many people do you think are going to die in this stupid hunt of yours?" Castiel's eyes flashed, and Alex's grace twisted angrily within her. "I've lost you too many times to count. It's my turn now, and I'm not going to let you throw away your life to stop it!"

Castiel's gaze wavered momentarily before it hardened. "No."

"No?" Alex repeated the word, her eyes stretching wide. Her anger boiled over, and she jabbed a finger into his chest. "That wasn't a question, Cas! Stop looking for a cure!"

"I said _no_." Castiel stepped forward, and Alex stepped back, surprised at the sudden aggression in his tone. He batted her hand away, and Alex straightened her back as she met his stare, her own eyes blazing. She flared her wings, the broken feathers spanning the concrete room and, to her surprise, Castiel's own wings fell down. "No," he repeated quietly, and Alex slowly lowered her wings, forcing the feathers to lie flat as she contemplated her confusion; his actions spoke of submission, but his words remained defiant to her demands. "I won't give up. Not this time."

He shook out his ruffled feathers as he stepped back, leaving Alex standing pressed up against the table, her mouth open. She watched Castiel walk away, and only when he was out of sight did she let her mouth snap closed. What the hell was that?

"Never seen you speechless like that," a voice teased, and Alex spun around to see Dean standing in the doorway, a beer in his hand.

"How much did you hear?"

Dean let out a dry chuckle as he stepped into the room, lifting the rim of his drink up to his lips. "Enough, once you started shouting," he said, and Alex felt her cheeks flush.

"I wouldn't have to shout is that asshole would just listen to me," she muttered, leaning up against the war room table. "What the hell is he thinking?" She looked up at Dean when the Winchester didn't respond, and she frowned. "What?"

"Nothing." Dean joined her at the table, leaning up beside her, and Alex watched as he took another long sip. "Honestly? I'm just glad to see that Cas finally has a backbone for once." He set his beer down on the table behind him as he looked down at her. "He must really care about this if he stood up to you."

"Well, he picked a shit time to grow a pair," Alex muttered, and, with a sigh, she pushed herself back to her feet. "He'll come around eventually. Until then, I think I'll get some rest." She took a step towards the hall before she paused. "It's good to have you back, Dean."

"Glad to be back." Dean picked up his drink and pressed the cool glass against his bruised face. "I'll see you in the morning. Go get some sleep." He circled around the table to take a seat in his chair, and Alex stepped out into the hallway. She could feel Castiel below her, frustration prickling at his grace as he rifled through the Men of Letters' old manuscripts; with a sigh, she made her way into her bedroom and locked the door behind her.

...

* * *

 **One of these days they'll stop fighting ...**


	25. Baby

**July 12th, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** lex followed the bunker stairs upwards, her wings hanging loosely behind her as she jumped up the concrete steps. She could hear music up ahead, the soft, gentle guitars echoing through the halls. It grew as Alex reached the top landing, and she glanced off towards the garage with a flick of her grace; it immediately recognized Dean's soul, thrumming in time with the beat, so Alex crossed the hall and jumped up the short, narrow flight of stairs to step into the garage. The air smelled of soap and motor oil, and her eyes traversed the concrete room to find Dean Winchester leaning over the Impala's hood, drawing large, soapy circles with a thick sponge as he hummed along with the music. "Hey," she greeted, and Dean straightened up in surprise. "Nice shorts."

"It's a free bunker." Dean looked down at the dark pair of basketball shorts, the cuffs ending just above his knees, and Alex snickered in amusement. "What?"

"Nothing. I just didn't know you actually had legs," she joked, and she carefully picked her way around the trickling stream of water to stand beside him. "The only thing you ever wear is jeans." Dean scoffed at her words, and Alex watched him turn the sponge onto the windshield. "What's new?"

"Not much." Dean scrubbed at a dark mark on the glass, and Alex waited patiently for him to continue. "How's Cas?"

"He's holed up in my room. I taught him how to use Netflix, so he'll be occupied for a while." Alex shrugged, and she toed at the plastic bucket that held Dean's soapy water. "We've sort of been giving each other space. I think he's still pretty shaken up from Rowena's spell."

"Yeah, well, I can't blame him." Dean leaned across the car to reach the rest of the windshield, and Alex turned her head at the sound of approaching footsteps. Noticing her silence, Dean looked up in time to see Sam step into view. "Hey."

"Hey," Sam echoed. "Dude, what's up with the shorts?"

Dean's lips pursed together, and Alex laughed at the question. "Shut up." Dean dropped the sponge into the bucket, and Alex sidestepped as the water splashed over the sides. "Did you find anything?"

"Uh … not on the Darkness, no." Sam paused at Alex's side, shaking his head.

Dean wiped his hands off on his shorts with a disgusted scowl. "What about Metatron?"

Alex felt Sam shift next to her, and she looked up to see Dean's frown mirror upon his face. "Still in the wind," he admitted as his brother turned to face him. "No leads."

"Great." Dean circled around to the back of the Impala to grab the hose, and Alex backpedaled to avoid getting hit by the cold spray that bounced off of the slick concrete. "So we have an ancient evil out there somewhere, just getting stronger by the day."

Sam looked down at Alex, and the angel shrugged, unsure how to cheer Dean up. "Cas is getting better, so there's that," Sam finally said. "Still wants to fix your, uh …"

"I'm fine." Dean reached up to touch the fading bruise on his cheek with tight-lipped frown. "Fine. One hundred percent."

He turned the hose onto the Impala's front, washing away the thick layer of suds, and Sam circled around the Impala as the water rushed towards him. "Alright, well, he's not," he retorted, and Alex's wings flittered at the sharp tone in his voice. "He still needs more time to heal."

"Well … guess we got nothing to do but get better." Dean turned off the hose with a shrug, and he crossed the bunker to stand beside his brother. "I don't know about you, but … I've got some serious cabin fever." He forced a laugh, gesturing to the garage around him. "I've washed every car in here twice."

"Well, I may have found us a case," Sam began. "I mean, it's thin —"

Dean threw up his hands before Sam could finish. "Hey, thin works. Tell me on the way." He reached for a small towel that was draped across the hood of a glossy blue Cadillac and hurriedly started wiping away the water.

"Guess we'll go get packed then." Alex made her way back towards the stairs, and Sam followed close at her heels.

"You sure you want to come with?" he asked, and Alex cast a surprised look over her shoulder. "I mean, with Cas, you know …" He trailed off, waiting for Alex to answer, but when she didn't, he continued. "Dean told me you guys fought."

His words had her pausing, and Alex feathers bristled slightly. "He did?" she repeated before she could stop herself. "Of course he did." She jumped down the concrete stairs with a roll of her eyes. "What do you want to know about it?"

"Know? I —" Sam shook his head. "He's been going through a lot, okay? You just have to be gentle with him."

Alex scoffed. "Why? Because he's delicate? Well, he wasn't so delicate last week when he told me what he thought." She paused on the landing to the second floor, and Sam circled around to stand in front of her. "What?"

"Nothing. Just … be careful, alright?" Sam's hesitated, his lips parted as if he wanted to say more, but after a moment he shrugged and walked away. Alex watched him go with a roll of her eyes before she moved off in the opposite direction.

The door to her bedroom was locked, and Alex rapped twice on the frame before her grace unlocked it and she stepped inside. The room inside was dark; Alex lifted her grace to her eyes so she could see the dim shapes that the flickering computer screen illuminated. Castiel was laying on the bed, his thick brown blanket wrapped tightly around him so all that was visible was his head, and Alex crossed the room stand at his side, her eyes turning towards the screen. "Hey," she greeted. "What are you watching?"

"Criminal Minds." Castiel's eyes didn't leave the computer, and Alex snorted in amusement at how entranced his voice sounded. "I'm almost through the second season."

"Huh. Never seen it. Just make sure and take a break so you don't rot your brain." Alex picked her duffle bag up off of the floor, circling around the bed to reach her dresser. "Sam found a case," she relayed, and she waited for Castiel's grunt before she continued. "He has no idea what it is. It might be nothing, but it's worth checking out."

"I take it your leaving with them."

Alex shoved her jacket into the bag and then paused, turning to face her mate. "Do you want me to stay? Because I can if you need me," she offered. "Just say the word."

"No, it's okay." Castiel shook his head, and Alex pushed down the relief that threatened to rise within her. "It will be good to have, uh, time alone." He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and Alex slung her bag over her shoulder. "I suppose you'll want your computer, though."

"Keep it. I can use Sam's." Alex crossed back over to the door, but she paused with her hand on the doorknob. "Hey, once you leave, you could probably head into Sam's room," she suggested. "He's got a tv. Just plug the computer into the cable on the dresser, alright? Then you can watch your shows on there." She dropped her bag onto the floor, and two steps carried her to the bedside. "Call if you need anything."

She folded her wings forward, the feathers brushing against his side, and Castiel returned the gesture, the barbs of his broken feathers trailing down her arm. He murmured out his assent, and Alex reached down to press a quick kiss on his forehead before she picked back up her bag and stepped into the hall.

...

 **T** he Impala roared down the highway, music thrumming through the front speakers. Alex was stretched out in the backseat; her legs were hooked around the green cooler that now took up half of her space while above her, rain drummed on the roof of the car, its inscecent pounding lost beneath the soft sway of the guitars. "Hey. Sam." Alex stretched a wing forward to flick Sam across the back of the head, and the Winchester reached in confusion as he felt his hair shift. "What have you got on this case?"

Sam glanced back at her, and Dean lowered the music so he could speak. "Okay, uh, Quaker Valley, Oregon, a town outside of Eugene," Sam began. "Dwayne Markham, the local sheriff, was found in the woods a couple of days ago. His body was mauled, so they chalked it up to an animal attack, but I'm thinking —"

"Werewolf," Dean finished, and Sam nodded. "Yeah, you're right. That is thin."

"There's a lot of wild animals up in Oregon," Alex added. "Could just as easily be a bear or an actual wolf." She shifted in her seat, her foot knocking against the green metal cooler. "It's probably nothing, right?"

"Probably not," Dean agreed, and his fingers moved across the leather steering wheel. "Oregon, here we come."

Sam sighed, slinging an arm back across the seat, and Alex moved out of the way as he unlatched the cooler and reached inside. He pulled out a plastic cup, and Alex caught the lid before it fell back down. The top layer was packed with similar drinks, and Alex's grace reached out to examine the contents. "What is that?" Dean voiced the question she had mentally asked.

Sam took a sip of his drink through the straw, and the thick liquid slurped as it rushed upwards. "It's a smoothie."

"Where's the beer?"

"It's under the smoothies." Alex stuck a hand into the ice, ignoring the cold as she felt around the bottom of the cooler. "Far under the smoothies."

She felt Dean's eyes turn onto her, and she yanked her hand free of the ice water as she lifted her head to meet his gaze. "Where's the rest of the beer?" he recasted with a frown. Alex shrugged, and she glanced over at Sam, waiting for his response, but the ringing of a phone halted the conversation.

"Oh, it's Cas. I gotta — I gotta get this." Sam jumped to answer, tucking his smoothie in between his knees as he pressed his phone up against his ear, turning away to ignore Dean's disgusted noise at the lack of beer. "Hey, Cas. Everything alright?"

Alex leaned forward, her ears picking up the sound of her mates voice. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, but the exhausted note in his words lent to the opposite. Sam placed the phone on speaker and held it between him and Dean, and Castiel's voice filled the car. "I was just reading up about the other cases in the area that you're headed to. I haven't found anything that matches."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, and Dean shrugged, not discouraged by the news. "Cas, you've got one job to do, and that's to heal. You understand?"

"I can _help_."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "of course you can, Cas, but right now is the time for you to focus on getting better. This is just a milk run. We got it. So … try and relax. Read a book, watch some Netflix."

"Alright." Castiel let out a resigned sigh. "Just call if you need anything."

"Got it, Cas. Thanks." Sam hung up and tucked his phone into his pocket, and Alex leaned back in her seat as he began slurping at his smoothie once again.

The cassette clicked, signaling the end of the tape, and Dean reached down to flip it over. "You think he's going to be okay?" he asked.

"He just needs some time, you know? We all do." Sam shifted in his seat so he could look back at Alex, and the angel cocked an eyebrow. "Did he say anything before we left?"

"No, he was busy watching Criminal Minds or something." Alex ignored Dean's scoff, adding, "Yeah, I know, procedural cop shows. But whatever it takes to keep him busy and happy, I guess." She leaned forward, placing her arms on the seat between the two brothers. "If this does turn out to be a case, maybe we should let him in on it. There's got to be something he can do from the bunker, right? I think he just needs to feel useful."

"We'll find him something to do," Dean promised. "Once we get there. Tell you what." The windshield wipers ceased, and Alex looked up at the sky, surprised to find that the rain had eased off. "We've been driving for, what, six hours? Let's find a place to get a stop for a bit."

"I could go for a drink or two." Alex peered out through the windshield onto the dark highway, her grace alighting her eyes so she could see past the night. "Why? Did you see a sign for something?"

"No, but I know where we are." Dean guided the car off of the highway, and Alex returned to the backseat.

Sam rolled his eyes, and the engine slowed as the Impala rolled down the side road. True to Dean's words, the neon sign of a bar could be seen in the distance, the dark parking lot filled with trucks. The lights of a small town sat just beyond it, brightening the moonless sky. "Wait, are you serious?" Sam frowned as the Impala came to a stop, and he looked over at his brother with a frown. "Dean, it's late. I'm exhausted and — and starving, and this place …" He looked out at the bar with a shake of his head. "I mean, even Swayze wouldn't come to this roadhouse."

"Okay, first of all, never use Swayze's name in vain." The engine died as Dean pulled out the keys. "Okay? Ever." He held up two fingers as he continued with his list. "Second, don't you remember this place? You don't remember Heather? The hunter that we worked a wendigo case with a couple years ago?"

"I don't —"

"You weren't here," Dean quickly added when Alex voiced her confusion. "You were, uh, you were …"

"That was back when she was with Ashiel, right?" Sam suggested, and Dean nodded as he echoed his brother. "So what, she's here tonight?"

"I texted her." Dean pocketed the keys. "She's working a rougarou case in Texas. Actually," he admitted after a second, "she never texted me back. But that's not the point. The point is that we have a ton of driving left to do just to go to a town where there's probably not a case. But in there …" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder off towards the bar. "Good times. And time heals all wounds, Sam, especially good times. What do you say?"

"I say you two knock yourselves out. I'm gonna find a diner, dig into the lore like Cas did, see if anything's ever happened where we're headed."

Alex rolled her eyes, and Dean pulled a disgusted face at the proposition. "Oh, man, you really gotta learn to have fun. Seriously, it's pathetic." He reached over the back of the seat to pat Alex on the knee. "Alright, well, I'm going to cash in on your promise, alright? One night of unbridled drinking with no consequences."

He threw open the car door, leaving Alex yelling after him, "I'm going to cure your hangover, not stop you from doing stupid shit." A wave of Dean's hand signaled that he heard, and Alex reached for the door handle with a shake of her head. "You sure you don't want to come, Sam? I can fix you up afterwards, too."

"Don't worry about it." Sam grabbed his bag that sat between his legs. "It's not really my style, you know?"

"Alright, call if you need anything." With a shrug, Alex stepped out of the car and followed after Dean. She heard the door slam shut behind her, and she cast a glance over her shoulder to see Sam starting off down the road, his bag slung over his shoulder.

...

 **T** he swinging, pulsing music crackled through the roadhouse's speakers, filling the emptying room. Alex sat at the bar, perched on a slick wooden stool. Dean sat beside her, humor glimmering in his apple-green eyes. "I'm telling you, that's how it happened," he insisted, and he slammed down the last of his whiskey as Alex scoffed in disbelief. "Honest to God. That werewolf didn't even stand a chance."

"Dean, there's no way you shot a werewolf in the _nuts_ with a silver bullet." Alex's fingers drummed on her glass as she shook her head, and Dean leaned forward in protest.

"No, no, I'm serious. I mean, it didn't kill it, but it was kind — kinda like just deserts, you know?" Dean waved the bartender over, brushing off Alex's frown of concern. "Little bit more," he promised. "May as well go all out, you know?"

"I know." Alex settled back in her seat with a tight-lipped look at Dean's empty glass. "Do what you want."

"Anyways." Dean took a sip of his refilled drink. "So I shot this motherfucker in the balls, right? And you should have heard him scream." He chuckled as he set his drink back down, shaking his head at the memory.

"I've heard a lot of things scream." Alex swirled her whiskey, rolling her eyes at Dean's less-than-amusing story as she waited for him to stop laughing. "Why didn't you shoot him in the heart?"

She knew the answer already; this was Dean's third time telling the story that night, and each rendition became more ridiculous than the rest. "Cause I couldn't," he decided. "I didn't have a clear shot. Had to get him down to my level."

"We're closing in ten." The bartender tapped the bar top with his finger, and Alex nodded to show she understood. She slammed down the rest of her drink, blinking as she felt her grace rise up to combat the impending rush of alcohol.

Dean followed her lead, slamming down his whiskey before he pushed himself to his feet. "You know, I missed this," he slurred. "You and I … we haven't had fun like this in a long, long time. We gotta — we gotta get out and do this more." He grinned, and when Alex nodded in agreement, he slapped his palm against the table. "Alright, we should, uh, go find Sam," he decided. "He's probably wondering where the hell we are."

"Well, he knows where we are." Alex flicked her wing, unable to help but correct Dean's comment before she added, "But I haven't heard anything from him. Maybe he found a place to crash for the night." She paused beside the door, frowning to find that Dean had stopped behind her. "What?"

"Come on. Zap me." Dean waved her closer, and Alex cocked an eyebrow. "Ya know, our deal. Wipe me clean."

"Sure thing." One step took Alex to his side, and she reached out, placing two fingers on his forehead. Her grace rushed inwards, and she closed her eyes as she felt it waver slightly, off balance from her own drinking. She pulled back to shake off the buzz before she sent it back in, weaving it through Dean's blood to break down the alcohol and chase away the impending symptoms.

She pulled away a second later, retracting her grace into her body. She heard Dean grunt, and he muttered out, "it tickled," as he reached up to smooth down his jacket. "Shit, I gotta get you to do that more often."

Alex laughed as she stepped out of the roadhouse. "You have to earn that," she teased, and Dean fell in step at her side. "How do you feel?"

"I feel awesome." Dean's teeth flashed in the early morning light. "Hell, I haven't felt this good in months." He reached in his pocket for the Impala's keys, and Alex heard his boots skid on the pavement as he came to a quick halt. "Wait, I —"

"Here." Alex dug into her jeans and tossed the car keys in Dean's direction. "You were talking about taking her drifting last night, so I took them. Just in case." She circled around to the front seat of the Impala as Dean grunted, and she added, "So, you're welcome."

"Let's go find Sam." Dean unlocked the car, and Alex nodded, pulling out her phone as she slid into the front seat. "Text him and see where he is —"

"Who are you?" A voice from the backseat had Alex jumping, her back colliding with the door as her wings flared out. Her phone clattered to the car floor as she locked eyes with the woman in the backseat. A naked woman.

Her weapon was in her hands before she knew it, the metal catching in the dim light of dawn, the sound of the metal bumping against the glove compartment covered by Dean's surprised noise. "Uh, good morning." A voice came from the backseat, its source hidden from sight, and Alex's feathers ruffled as she recognized Sam. "That's, uh, my brother Dean."

"Sorry, Sam, I didn't — I didn't realize you had company." Dean turned his head out the windshield, hiding a grin, and Alex cast him a tight-lipped frown at the amusement in his tone. She turned her head away as the woman began to pull on a shirt, and her grace pulled her weapon back up into her jacket.

"Yeah." Sam cleared his throat, and Alex heard him shift uncomfortably from where he lay. "Yeah, uh, could you give us a minute?"

"Well, I'll just, uh … just won't be here anymore." Dean reached for the door, and Alex did the same, quickly jumping out of the Impala. "So you kids take your time." Dean chuckled as he closed the door, and Alex circled around to walk at his side, shaking out her wings. The laughter died from his face as he noticed her, and Alex turned her back to the car with a huff. "Jealous?"

The jest was accompanied by a teasing wink, and Alex scoffed as she stopped ten paces from the car. "Disgusted," she corrected. "That's _my_ backseat. It's like fucking on someone else's bed." Car doors opened, and Alex looked back to see Sam emerge, dressed in his worn jeans and grey v-neck shirt. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, and Alex watched how his face flushed as their eyes locked. The girl was hurrying off down the street, adjusting her wrinkled shirt as she did so, and Alex followed Dean back towards the Impala. She quickly hurried around to the passenger side, fingers tightening protectively on the handle. "I call shotgun."

"Whoa, whoa, hold up." Sam's brow furrowed as he looked over the car, and Alex's wings rose to in an attempt to match his height.

"I'm not sitting back there anymore. Gross." Alex pulled a disgusted face, ignoring how Dean laughed. She slid into the front seat without waiting for protest, and she waited for both brothers to follow.

Sam was the last to get in, pulling the door closed as he folded his long legs in the backseat. "Guys, I can explain what was going on —"

"No, no, no." Dean cut him off with a shake of his head, and he reached past Alex to pull a cassette out of the glove compartment. He popped it into the tape deck, and the first few notes of a song began to bleed through the speakers. "No."

Sam groaned as he recognized the song. "Don't 'Night Moves' me."

"Shh." Dean cranked up the volume, and Alex glanced back to watch Sam roll his eyes. "Just let it wash over you. Just take it in."

 _I was a little too tall, could've used a few pounds_  
 _Tight pants point hardly renown_

Dean's lips moved along with the words, and with a laugh, Alex lifted her voice to join in.

 _She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes_  
 _And points all her own sitting way up high_

"This is ridiculous," Sam muttered, rolling his eyes as he started buttoning up his red flannel.

Dean laughed, and the Impala rolled out of the parking lot and off towards the highway, picking up speed."One of the greatest rock writers of all time, Samuel."

"It's Sam." Sam's voice was drowned out by the music as Dean cranked it up.

 _Way up firm and high_  
 _Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy_

" _Out in the backseat of my brother's '67 Chevy_." Sam sang over the words, and Alex's head tipped back as she laughed. Dean glanced back at his brother, and Sam grinned. "Yeah, you started this," he reminded. "You started this."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Here we go. Come on now." The Impala picked up speed as it rolled onto the highway, and Alex drew her legs up underneath her, raising her voice alongside the Winchesters' as the chorus thrummed through the speakers.

...

 **"D** igging into the lore." Dean's voice broke into the silence, and Alex lifted her head from where it rested against the window. The sky was dark again, the clock reading a little past midnight, and Alex shifted with a groan, grimacing at the stiffness in her limbs. Dean chuckled, running his fingers along the steering wheel. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Alex heard Sam breathe out a laugh from the backseat. "Man, I needed that."

"And hey, look at that, you're finally not a virgin anymore," Dean joked. "But you know what? I think it was time. I respect the fact that you, uh, you know, you wanted to stay true and pure and waited."

The balled up wrapper of their dinner hit the windshield, and Alex snickered as Dean's head jerked back in surprise as it landed at his feet. "Yeah, you know what?" Sam retorted with a grin. "You — you're an idiot."

"Even put a blanket down. Buddy, classy and thoughtful as always" Dean kicked the wrapped over to Alex's side, and Alex stuck out a tongue in protest. "You know, you two almost had me there for a second with your, uh, thing."

Alex's wings flicked at Sam's spluttered confusion, and she huffed. "Uh, yeah, that thing was to cover up the fact that we were going behind your back to cure that damn arm of yours." She glanced back towards Sam for confirmation, and the hunter nodded. "Anyways, like Dean said, I appreciate the blanket."

"Yeah, sorry about that. It was the best place we had …" Even in the darkness, Alex could see the blush that covered Sam's face. "I … I tried to give her my number. You know what she said?"

" 'We got tonight. Who needs tomorrow'?"

"No." Sam blinked at Dean's answer. "Is everything a Bob Seger song to you?"

"Yes." Dean flashed a grin in the rearview mirror, and Sam shook his head, a small sigh falling from his lips. The conversation died, and after a second or two, Dean cleared her throat. "What was her name?"

Sam sighed. "Piper." Alex heard the leather seat protest beneath his weight as the hunter shifted, and she glanced back to see that he had drawn a foot up under him. He ran his palms down his jeans as he repeated himself, and Alex turned so she was resting her back against the car door, head turned so she could see both brothers at once.

"Piper?" Dean chuckled. "That's awesome. And Heather." His voice grew distant, a small smile on his lips. "One-night wonders, man. Shit, we're lucky we still get that at all." Alex scoffed, and Dean looked over at her. "Oh, yeah. You've never had one of those, have you?"

"Nope. Never really wanted it, I guess." Alex leaned back, resting her head against the glass as she shrugged. "I mean, maybe one day, but I'm sort of … unavailable at the moment. Besides," she hurried to add, "what's the point? Sure, it feels good for a bit, but then what? You're just left with loneliness and gonorrhea."

Dean laughed, and Alex felt the car speed up beneath her. "Hey, I'm clean," he retorted. "You just gotta be careful, you know? Besides, Cas says he could take care of any of that."

"Yeah, I know," Alex said. "I overheard the two of you talking. You were asking him about it cause you had a weird thing near your dick?" She smirked as Dean's face darkened at the memory. "Cas said it was just an ingrown hair."

It was Sam's turn to laugh, and Dean turned to glare back at him. "Hey, I'm not the one who's actually had the clap before," he snapped.

"Yeah, from a curse," Sam shot back. "It's not the same. That doesn't count." He sighed, and Alex watched as he turned his eyes out the window. "Dean, don't you … ever want something more?"

Dean snorted at the question. "I'm sorry, have you met us? We're batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs." He looked over at Alex, adding, "No offense."

Alex flicked her wings, shaking her head to show that she wasn't affected, and Sam sighed. "You don't ever think about something? Not — not marriage or whatever, but … something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life."

"Have you not heard a single word Bob's been singing about?" Dean glanced back at his brother through the rearview mirror, and Alex watched as his shoulders fell slightly. "You're tired. I can tell." Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean shook his head. "You're exhausted," he insisted. "Well, I'm still wired, so I'm probably gonna pull over, get some gas. You catch some Z's, cause, buddy, you earned them. Proud of ya." Alex watched as Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean grinned. "Piper. Mm. Man, she smelled good, too."

Sam scoffed, and Alex stuck out her tongue. "All I smelled was sex," she insisted before she slung an arm over the back of the seat. "You good on your own, or do you need me to help? With my grace," she added when Dean snickered. "With my grace."

"I think I'm good." Sam brought his feet up onto the leather seat. "You sure you're good to drive, Dean? You've been at the wheel all day. I'm sure Alex could take over for the night."

Alex watched as Dean's eyebrow cocked, and she shook her head. "I don't think I've _ever_ driven this car. And I'm pretty sure Dean's not going to let me anytime soon."

"I barely let _Sammy_ drive." Dean patted the console, ignoring Sam's hurried correction of "Sam." He returned his hand to the steering wheel with a shake of his head. "Tell you what. You show me that you can respect her, maybe one day I'll take you both out for a spin." He reached down to turn up the music as Sam settled down for sleep, and Alex curled her wings around her as she returned to facing forwards, head resting against the cool glass as the Impala roared on down the road.

...

 **A** lex opened her eyes as she felt the engine die, and the car fell still beneath her. The angel's wings twitched curiously as she sat up, glancing back over her shoulder to see that Sam was still fast asleep in the backseat, his breathing shallow and steady. "Why are we stopping?" Alex watched as Dean reached over to grab his bag off of the floor beside his brother's head, moving slowly as not to wake him. "What's going on?"

"I'm tired." Dean spoke quietly as he unzipped his bag and pulled out his laptop. "So I'm gonna watch the first few minutes of the Magnificent Seven and then hit the hay."

"Are you … are you going to have enough room?" Alex looked around at the car, frowning at how his legs were cramped beneath the Impala's console. "I can go outside for the night if you want to stretch out." She reached for the door, but a hand on her wrist had her pausing.

"Don't be stupid." Dean tugged on her jacket, and Alex let him pull her back away from the door. "You're not spending the night outside. I've slept in worse." He fell silent when Sam awoke with a jerk, and he slung his arm over the back of the seat as he turned to look back at Sam. "Welcome to the Winchester Motel," he joked as Sam struggled to sit up, blinking in confusion. "We don't have cable, but we do …" he reached down past his brother to open up the cooler, " … have room service." Sam grunted, unamused by the joke, and Dean let the lid fall shut. "You were singing in your sleep, by the way. That song Mom loved that Dad used to always play for us. I think I've actually still got the tape."

"Is that what is was?" Alex blinked, frowning as she remembered Sam's thin, barely melodic mumblings. "I didn't recognize it."

" 'Someday Soon.' " Sam answered the question, and he slumped back down in the seat, his eyes focusing distantly on the roof of the car. "Hey, Dean, um … you said when you saw the Darkness, you weren't sure whether it was, uh … the real thing or a vision, right?"

"Mmhmm." Dean turned in his seat, pressing his back up against the door so he could further face his brother. He glanced over at Alex, and the angel frowned, unsure where the conversation was going.

"I think I've been having visions, too, lately." Sam's hazel eyes flickered across Alex's face. "I mean, it's just images — I mean, more of a … feeling, really. But I just had one right now, and — and _Dad_ was in it. But it wasn't Dad like — like … the Dad that — that I grew up with." Sam frowned, stumbling over his words as he tried to explain his dream. "It was Dad when he was our age. And I-I guess it wasn't even really Dad. It was someone pretending to be Dad and —"

Dean's head recoiled slightly in surprise. "Okay, what makes you say that?"

"For starters, he told me everything I wanted to hear."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound like Dad." Dean pulled one leg up onto the seat with a small laugh, but Alex didn't share his amusement. She pressed her grace up against Sam's soul, searching for any signs that something had occurred, but she found nothing.

"No." She almost missed Sam's agreement. "Anyways, whoever it was … they had a message to deliver. They said the Darkness is coming, and … only we can stop it."

Dean frowned, and Alex pushed away a leg that tried to straighten out into her space. "Did they have him give you any helpful tips on how to do that?" she asked, ignoring how Dean's leg jerked to knock against her knee.

"He said, 'God helps those who help themselves,' " Sam said. "I mean, maybe … maybe these visions are coming from God." He sat up fully, adjusting his shirt with a frown.

"Whoa." Dean's leg fell away from Alex's seat as attention snapped back onto his brother. "Pump the brakes."

"I mean, Dean, the first one happened after I prayed," Sam continued, and Dean's eyes stretched wide in surprise. "This was back in the hospital," he explained. "I … I was infected. I'm not anymore," he was quick to add as Dean's face darkened. "I-I-I never went full rabid. I …"

"You get infected and you didn't even tell me." Dean's voice was flat, and his frown only darkened when Alex merely shrugged. "You knew."

"He told me when he picked me up on the way back to the bunker." Alex brushed off his dark tone, choosing instead to focus on Sam. "He was just looking for answers. At the time, we all were."

Sam nodded, and Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm sure whatever's kicking around in your head right now is a side effect from the infection that you failed to tell me about," he grumbled, and he slid his bag onto the floor with a shake of his head.

"You know, I don't think it's that simple …"

"Come on, man." Dean cut him off, and Sam reluctantly fell silent. "That quote? 'God helps those who help themselves'? God didn't say that. That's not even in the Bible. That's an old proverb that dates way back to Aesop. I read," he added defensively when Alex and Sam exchanged surprised looks. "And more importantly, when was the last time God answered any one of your prayers? It's not a vision, Sam. Alright? It's just some … some fever dream." He threw up his hands in defeat. "That's all. And as far as Dad goes, I dream about Dad all the time."

"You do?"

Dean scoffed. "Of course I do. It's usually the same one, too. We're all in the car. I'm sitting in the driver's eat, Dad's sitting shotgun." Dean's voice grew soft and distant, and he heaved a sigh. "But there aren't any shotguns. There's no monsters. There's no hunting. There's none of that. It's just … he's teaching me to drive. And, uh, and I'm not little like I was when he actually taught me to drive. I'm sixteen, and he's helping me get my learner's permit. Of course," he added over to Sam, "you're in the backseat, just _begging_ to take a turn. We pull up to the house — the family house — and I park in the driveway, and he looks over and says, 'Perfect landing, son.' " He sighed again, his head tilting back to rest against the glass. "I have that dream every couple of months. Kind of comforting, actually."

"I always, uh … I always dream about mom," Sam admitted. "Usually the same kind of thing, though."

"Normal life?"

Sam nodded, smiling at Dean's words. "Yeah. Normal life."

Two sets of eyes turned onto Alex, and the angel forced a smile. "I don't really dream as an angel," she admitted. "Not anymore. But, uh …" Alex hesitated, grasping at straws, looking for an answer that wasn't dreams about Lucifer. "Sometimes I dream about my mom, too," she finished. "Normal, apple pie life. Those are the best kind of dreams, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed, but after a second, he straightened up in his seat. "But, Dean, this wasn't just a dream. I'm telling you."

With a sigh, Dean rolled his eyes, his voice sharpening. "Why would somebody dress up like Dad to give you a message?" he asked. "I mean, _Dad_. You don't exactly have a history of listening to what he has to say."

"Well, you — you said the Darkness sent some sort of message to you," Alex suggested, and she flicked a wing in Sam's direction to gesture to him. "Maybe … if this isn't just a dream, maybe there's something out there that wants to stop the Darkness and it sending messages to Sam. Wouldn't be the first time you two were the spokespeople for opposites forces."

Her reminder was accompanied by a glare from Dean, but Alex ignored it. "And you seriously think that thing is God?" Dean snapped. "Come on. How many — how many opportunities has God had to crack this piñata, and I don't see any candy on the floor, do you?"

"Okay, then maybe it's not God." Sam avoided Alex's eye, and the angel turned her gaze out the window with a frown. "But, uh …"

"I know what you're trying to do here," Dean said, his voice unusually soft. "You're trying to find some — some greater meaning to it all. Right? Some … fate to what went down. But I'm telling you, Sam. The Darkness? It's on us. And no one's gonna help us, certainly not God, so we'll have to figure this out, like we always do. But until then … we hunt. This case for starters. Course, this case is …"

"It's just probably nothing," Sam finished, and Dean repeated him with a firm nod. Sam sighed, and the backseat squeaked as he sunk down. "Goodnight, jerk."

"Night, bitch." Dean swung his legs back onto the floor, and Alex threw open the car door, letting her wings stretch out into the night air.

"Take the front seat," she instructed. "It's a warm night out, and I don't need to sleep." She closed the door before Dean could protest, and she circled around to the hood, glancing over her shoulder to see that the Winchester had wasted no time in stretching out across the bench seat. Alex climbed onto the hood, moving slowly to the metal wouldn't creak beneath her weight. The sky was bright with stars, twinkling high above her head, and Alex leaned back against the windshield. _Castiel?_ She lifted her prayers, feeling along the thin strand of grace, but no answer came; the seraph was asleep, his grace still exhausted from Rowena's spell. With a sigh, Alex tucked her arms around her side, spreading her wings out against the warm Impala. _Good night._

...

 **Quaker Valley, Oregon**

 **T** he white tiled room smelled of bleach and blood, and Alex tugged the rubber gloves up around her wrists as she followed Dean across the floor. A fair-haired doctor stood on the far side, his hands tucked into his white lab coat as he watched them approach. "Agents. There's not much left," he warned as he motioned down to the sheet-covered body, "but you're welcome to take a look."

"Thank you." Dean's words sounded distracted as he struggled with the purple latex gloves, and Alex brushed past him to pull back the white sheet. For the most part, the corpse was intact, but the chest and neck were little more than mangled flesh. She carefully picked through the mess, laying the skin flat in an attempt to recreate the victim's appearance.

"You said that the blood had been drained?" Alex's fingers paused along the left carotid artery, which was pale and limp. "How?"

"Neck wound, most likely," the coroner explained, and Alex turned her attention down onto the mutilated throat. "He was dead by the time the creature started on the chest. There's not much to suggest what it was, but it was big — wolf or a bear, most likely."

"Most likely," Alex repeated, and she pulled away with a satisfied nod. She looked over at Dean, who was flipping through the autopsy file, and she pulled off her gloves and tossed them into the trash. "Heart's missing," she told Dean before turning back to the man across from them. "Did you find anything else?"

"Nothing unusual." The coroner frowned as he looked between the two hunters. "This was clearly an animal attack. What exactly are you looking for?"

"Nothing." Dean closed the file, and Alex stepped back with an unreadable blink. "We're just covering all of our bases." He reached into his wallet for one of their cards, and he set it down onto the stainless steel table next to the autopsy file. "If you find anything else, just give us a call."

Alex followed Dean down the hall and out of the building, her wings flicking in frustration as she stepped out into the summer air. "I can't stand coroners," she muttered, falling in step at Dean's side. "I swear, some of them are so _blind_. How can they honestly look at that and _not_ see that it's something humanoid." She rolled her eyes, shaking out her wings. "A wolf my ass."

"Come on." Dean fished the car keys out of his pocket, and Alex circled around to slide into the front seat. "Let's go pick Sam up at the sheriff's station, huh? Maybe he'll have found something more interesting."

"Sounds good." Alex slid over the seat, landing in the back of the car with a muffled _thud_. "I'm gonna change into something more comfortable." She dug around on the floor for her bag, and she shucked off her slacks as the engine roared to life. "Obviously we were wrong. There's definitely something to this case."

"Apparently." The Impala rolled off down the street, and Alex pulled on a pair of worn blue jeans. "Did you see anything that might point to what this is?"

"Hard to say." Alex's fingers undid the buttons on her blouse, and she traded its place for a grey v-neck, sliding back over into the front seat to sit next to Dean. "That level of blood loss would point towards a vampire, but vamps obviously don't take hearts." She shrugged on a blue flannel with a roll of her eyes. "Either we have a wolf with a taste for blood, a vamp with a knack for hearts, or some weird combination of the two."

Dean grunted as he turned the car into the parking lot of the police station, and Alex rolled up the sleeves of her shirt as she caught sight of Sam approaching. The Winchester was loosening his tie as he crossed the hot concrete, and with a sigh, Alex reluctantly slid back into the backseat once so Sam could sit beside his brother. "Hey," he greeted as he opened up the door, and Dean returned it with a grunt.

"The coroner showed us the sheriff's body," he relayed as Sam closed the door behind him. "And, uh, it was mauled all right. And get this — heart missing, body completely drained of blood."

Sam's eyes narrowed in surprise, and he glanced back at Alex to watch her confirm it with a nod. "So, what? We're looking at a — a werewolf-vampire hybrid?"

"Were-pire," Alex quipped, and she grinned over at Dean as he echoed her a second later, his green eyes flickering in amusement. He held his fist up, and Alex met it with her own, leaning forward to see Sam's reaction.

Unsurprisingly, it was less than impressed. "No." Sam pursed his lips. "That's awful. Anyways," he added, moving on, "the, uh, the sheriff's replacement — Deputy Donnelly — he's not the brightest bulb, but I got a copy of his report." He held up the manilla folder, and Alex eagerly reached forward to grab it. "Maybe he missed something —"

He cut off when a hand rapped on the window, and Dean rolled it down with a deep-set frown. "Agents." A round-faced police officer smiled at the three of them, his blue eyes landing upon Sam. "These must be your partners, right Agent Felder? Let me guess." His eyes narrowed as he looked between Dean and Alex. "Agent Walsh and Agent Henley, am I right?" Dean nodded, and the man extended a hand as he introduced himself. "Donelly. Pleasure to meet you. I just want to thank you both for stoppin' by. We really appreciate your due diligence."

"Oh." Dean blinked, surprised at the light-hearted expression of gratitude. "Actually, uh, do you know a motel where we can crash for the night?"

"You're staying?" It was the deputy's turn to act surprised, and he looked between Sam and Dean with a frown.

"Yeah, just want to kick all the tires," Sam said, and Alex nodded as her grace snuck out, curious by the pale, blank look behind the deputy's eyes.

Donelly's face screwed up as he thought. "Well, uh, there's a mote on Downey that'll give you a good price," he finally said. "And if you're looking for a decent meal, you can't beat Aunt Mel's, down by the train station. Parking is a bitch, but it's the best damn steak in the whole state."

"You had me at 'steak.' " Dean grinned as the deputy walked away, but the smile faltered as he caught sight of Alex's pale face in the mirror. "What?" He rolled up the window, glancing back over his shoulder with a frown. "You okay?"

"That … he's not human." Alex pulled her wings in tight as the deputy walked away, shivering at she remembered the ice that had been his soul. It had been dark, a coldness that she had never felt before. "And he's not a werewolf or a vampire, either. I don't … I don't know what he is." She tore her eyes away from the monster, forcing them back onto Sam and Dean. "That's got to be what killed the sheriff."

"Okay, great." Dean reached for the door handle, but Sam stopped him. "Let's get it done."

"Whoa, whoa," he cautioned. "We don't know what this thing is. Who knows what kills him, or if there's more than one." He watched Deputy Donelly disappeared back into the station. "Let's go grab lunch, then we can plan from there. Okay?"

"Okay." Dean reluctantly shifted the Impala into drive, and Alex let her feathers lie flat. "Let's give Cas a call, too, alright? Maybe he can dig through some of the lore." The nod towards the backseat allocated the responsibility to Alex, and she grunted in acknowledgement as they drove away.

...

 **"L** ily Markham." Alex repeated the name as she watched the Impala drive away, shaking her head as it disappeared down the road. "I still don't get why we're here talking to the widow. We should be out kicking Donelly's ass." She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, and her eyes turned onto the farmhouse that lay before them.

"Look, those crime scene photos were off, okay?" Sam adjusted his tie as he made his way up to the front door, and Alex hung back, displeased with how casual her appearance was in comparison. Her wings flicked as she took in the property. It was unusually quiet; even the stretches of meadow were devoid of life.

"Sam …" Alex moved to stand at Sam's side, her wings drawn in close. "Something's wrong here. I can feel it in the air."

"I feel it, too." Sam frowned as he rapped on the door. "Mrs. Markham?" he called, and his voice echoed across the empty property. "Are you home?"

Alex stretched her grace into the home, feeling around for any signs of life. She found three within the walls; three of whatever Donelly had been. "Sam." Alex drew her grace back inside with a shiver, unlocking the door in the process so it swung open with a creak. "They're here."

"What's here?" Sam reached back to draw his gun, and it clicked as he popped out the magazine to check his ammunition. "Silver," he relayed. "Think that'll stop them?"

"Well, it's sure as hell not a fucking werewolf —"

A flash of black from the corner of her eye had Alex cutting off, and the next thing she knew, the black shape was colliding into her, bowling her off of the porch and throwing her onto the hard dirt. Her wings spread instinctively, softening the blow, and Alex heard Sam shout in surprise. Her head swiveled, searching for him, but her attacker stood in the way, fangs bared in a terrifying snarl.

Alex rolled to the side as a foot landed in the dirt where her throat had just been, pulling her wings in tight as she pushed herself to her feet. Her grace dropped her weapon into her hand, and she ducked a side swipe. She grabbed the arm flying past, thrusting it out of the way. The momentum carried the creature straight into her, and his head fell back in a howl as her angel blade buried itself to the hilt.

Alex stepped back as the corpse collapsed in front of her, grey eyes seeking out Sam Winchester. "Sam?" The yard was empty, and her wings rose in alarm. "Sam!"

Gunshots echoed through the air, originating from the house, and Alex jumped up the porch and kicked her way through the door. Her grace rushed out, the lights overhead flashing at the sudden surge, and Alex twisted her weapon at the sound of Sam's voice. "Alex!"

"I'm here." Alex sidestepped as Sam appeared in the hall, almost slipping on the rug as he bolted towards the door. A woman rushed after him, fangs bared, and the moment Sam had rushed out the door, Alex squared her shoulders, facing off with the monster.

She wasn't prepared for the strength at which the woman crashed into her, and Alex staggered back with a grunt. She swung her weapon, but the blow glanced off of the creature's shoulders, leaving nothing but a bloody nick. Alex backpedaled, wings rising to fill out the door to protect Sam as the monster threw its head back to howl in surprise. Fangs flashed in the light, but the scream died as Alex thrust her blade into the woman's throat.

The fight died in her eyes as the creature collapsed, and Alex shook out her wings as she stared down at the body. "What the hell is that thing?" Sam's voice came from behind her, and Alex turned, lips pursed.

"Don't know." Alex shrugged, and she nudged at the corpse with her toe. "Never seen anything like it." She peeled back the lip slightly to look at the fangs with a flick of her wings. Three sharp incisors sat on each side of the top row; unlike with vampires, they didn't seem to be retractable, but instead appeared to be an actual extension of the original teeth.

"Me neither." Sam cleared his gun and tucked it into his pants with a scowl. "I emptied almost an entire clip into her, and it barely slowed her down." He looked down at the body, adding, "Is that all of them?"

"No." Alex's grace rose up as she sought out the soul she had felt earlier. "There's one more upstairs. Unconscious," she quickly added as she felt Sam tense. "Come on." She twisted her weapon in her hands as she made her way up the stairs, letting her grace lead the way.

Sam followed, redrawing his weapon as he reached the second floor. The slight clearing of his throat revealed his question, and Alex nodded towards the closed door at the end of the hall. She moved forward quickly, not allowing Sam to pass her, and she kicked open the door and stepped into the room.

A middle-aged woman lay on the bed, her head lolled to the side. Bruises darkened her face, and a cut across her lower eye still oozed blood. "It looks like we interrupted something," she heard Sam say from behind her, and she crossed the room to stand beside the bed. "Maybe they had something against her."

"Well, we're probably not going to find out." Alex raised her weapon, the metal catching in the light.

"Whoa, whoa, wait!" Sam jumped forward. "We should keep her alive —"

Alex plunged the weapon into Lily Markham's chest, and the monster's eyes snapped open. A punctured gasp fell from her lips, fading as she died. "Sorry, you were saying?" Alex pulled the weapon free, and she turned her grey eyes onto Sam.

"Never mind." Sam's lips pursed together as he hissed out the word, and Alex tucked her weapon into the back of her jeans. "I was just thinking that if something here is _turning_ people, then maybe there's a way to reverse it."

"Huh. Well, you can't reverse death." Alex shrugged, and she brushed past Sam on her way out of the room. Why don't you go see if you can get that car out front running, huh? I'm going to check the perimeter."

She hesitated, waiting to see if Sam would protest to her authoritative tone, but the Winchester nodded. "Sounds good," he agreed through a tight jaw. "Call Dean while you're at it."

"Sure thing." Alex hurried down the stairs and out of the house, head lifted as she surveyed the land. The dirt driveway was surrounded by meadows, but forest lined the right side of the property, and Alex frowned as she dug her phone out of her pocket and dialed Dean's number.

The line was busy, and Alex frowned as she was sent to his voicemail. "Dean, call me back. There were three of those … fuckers here. They're dead, but Sam filled one with silver and it barely broke stride. Use the angel blade if you have one." She stepped down off of the porch, adding, "Sam's finding us a ride. Meet us by the gas station that we passed on the edge of town." She hung up and shoved her phone back into her pocket with a roll of her eyes; who could Dean possibly be talking with? With a shrug, Alex shook out her wings and broke into a loping run to circle the property.

...

 **T** he parking lot of the broken-down gas station was vacant when Alex and Sam pulled up, and the second the engine died, Alex got out, shaking out her wings as she surveyed the area. Her feathers bristled, displeased with the emptiness, and she turned her head when she heard the car door slam. "You okay?" Sam asked, and Alex grunted as she turned her eyes back onto the surrounding land. "Listen, there's no way those things could have followed us here. You're safe."

"I'm not worried about my safety," Alex retorted, and she forced herself to turn back to Sam. "I'm worried about you. I don't know what we're hunting, but I hate it."

Sam forced a chuckle. "Yeah, you and me both."

The roar of the Impala's engine had him falling silent, and Alex turned to watch the car pull up alongside the stolen silver sedan. Sam's attention immediately turned onto his brother, and Alex turned back surveying their surroundings. "Hey," she heard Dean say. "What happened?"

"We got jumped," Sam explained. "Alex killed all three of them." His words were accompanied by a tight note, but Dean didn't seem to catch it. "Does Cas have any idea about what these are?"

Alex's grace caught something cold, and she spun around, wings flaring out. "There's one here." Her head tilted as she looked the Impala up and down, her feathers ruffling in confusion. "In the car." She pushed past Sam and pulled open the back door, frowning at the growls that emanated from the green cooler. "Dean …"

Dean grinned. "Oh yeah." Alex hauled the cooler across the seat, frowning at Dean's smug tone. "I ran into one of those motherfuckers myself."

Alex undid the latch and opened the lid, eyebrows lifting at the sight of Deputy Donelly's decapitated head. Their eyes locked, and the head bared its fangs. "Alrighty." Alex slammed the lid back down. "Done with that." She shoved the cooler back across the seat as she climbed out of the car. "Want me to kill it?"

"Hold off on that for a bit." Dean barely cast her a look, his eyes still on Sam. "I talked with Cas," he explained, "and he's looking into it. I sent him a picture of the fangs — I've never seen anything like that."

"Yeah, they looked pretty unusual," Alex agreed, slamming the car door and joining the brothers' conversation. "Well, at least we know what can kill them. Angel blade." She tapped her lower back where the handle of her weapon lay. "Did Cas have any ideas?"

"He managed to find a bit in between his binge watching. He thought it was a Whisper at first." Dean circled back around to the driver's side of the Impala, and Sam and Alex followed, climbing into the black car. "Uh, I guess they were supposed to be some freaky third cousin of werewolves or something?" He shrugged, dismissing the fact as irrelevant, and the Impala purred to life. "But I guess they only feed during the solar eclipse or some shit like that."

"Yeah, that's not for a while," Alex agreed from the backseat.

"And silver didn't do the trick, and decapitation just made him pissed." Dean's phone rang, and he dug around in his pocket with a grin. "Speak of the devil, huh? Hey, Cas." He held the phone out between him and Sam. "Tell me you got something that doesn't involve chicks in prison."

"Bet you never thought you'd say that out loud," Sam teased, and Dean rolled his eyes.

Castiel appeared not to have heard. "It's a nechzehrer. _Nechzehrer_ ," he repeated when Sam let out a confused noise. "A ghoul and vampire-like creature."

"A ghoul-pire!" Dean grinned at his joke. When Sam just rolled his eyes, he glanced back at Alex, his smile faltering slightly. "Right?"

Alex nodded, flashing her teeth in forced humor, but Castiel carried on as if he hadn't heard Dean's joke. "Some breeds feed on the flesh of the dead. Others feed on the blood and hearts of the living. They run in small packs, but they usually keep an extremely low profile."

Sam hummed, leaning forward in interest, but Dean merely grimaced. "Great. So how do we kill them?"

"Well, they're already dead," Castiel relayed. "So, in a manner of speaking, they just need to be reminded that they're dead. You need a Charon's obol."

Dean frowned, and Sam let out a quiet breath. "Of course," he agreed, and Dean's confusion visibly deepened. "Yeah, in ancient Greece, uh, when a person died, some people believed you had to put an obol, or a-a coin, in their mouth so they can use it as currency to be taken across the river to the underworld."

"Right," Castiel agreed, the low rumble of his voice almost lost beneath the hum of the engine. "You place a coin in a nechzehrer's mouth then sever the head, and that will kill them. And according to the lore, if you kill the pack's Alpha that way, everyone they've turned will revert back to human form."

"Awesome," Dean muttered, and Alex leaned forward to speak. "' That way'?" she repeated. "What — what if I just stabbed it with an angel blade? Because that definitely kills them."

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "The lore just says that that's the way to reverse the effects. And according to the Men of Letters' records, you'll need a copper coin," he added after a second, and Alex fell back into her seat with a hum. "They used to use pennies, so you'll need one of those."

"Yeah, but one minted pre-1982," Sam quickly interjected, and when Dean looked over at him with a confused frown, he cleared his throat. "So, before 1982, pennies were ninety-five percent copper. Since then, they're only copper-plated zinc."

"Wow. Your nerdiness knows no bounds." With a roll of his eyes, Dean turned his attention back onto his phone. "Alright well, thanks, Cas. Good work. Way to come off the bench."

"What bench?"

"Just get back to getting better, okay?" Sam's encouragement was cut short as Dean hung up, and he dug around in his pockets with a sigh. Alex heard the jingle of loose coins as he pulled a handful of change from his jeans. "Hey, Pip, you should probably hold off on killing any more of those until we find out who the alpha is," Sam instructed, and Alex leaned forward with a frown. "If we're lucky, you haven't already killed them, and we can reverse this whole thing." He flipped through the pennies with a shake of his head. "I don't have any old pennies."

"Well, yeah." Dean scoffed as he tucked his phone back into his jacket. "I mean, who carries pennies these days anyways?"

"Stop the car." Sam reached for the door handle, and Dean slammed on the brakes. "There's got to be pennies in that gas station back there," Sam explained as the Impala pulled off onto the shoulder of the road. "I'll go get some and meet up with you later."

The door clicked as Dean locked them, and Sam glanced over at his brother with a frown. "Wait, Sam, we don't know who the alpha is," Dean protested.

"Yeah, well, you have someone who does." Sam jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he manually unlocked the door. "Text me when you find out, okay? We need to move fast before they kill anyone else."

The door slammed behind him, and Alex frowned as she watched him start off down the road. "Well, he's got a point," she finally admitted, and her grace undid the latch on the green cooler next to her. "Alright, asshat, you ready to talk?" She reached in and pulled the nechzehrer out by the hair, jerking back as the creature's jaw snapped furiously.

"Whoa!" Dean whipped around in his seat at the sound, his green eyes darkening slightly at the sight. "You sure you want to pull that thing out here?"

"It's not like it's going anywhere." Alex prodded the monster in the forehead, ignoring how it tried to lunge forward. "It's literally just a head." She gave it a shake to emphasize her words, and the head fell back into the cooler, leaving Alex with nothing but a handful of hair. "Ew." She reached back in to haul the nechzehrer back out. "Come on, talk."

No answer came, and Alex reached back to cup the nape of the neck so she could examine the wound where the neck should be. "Ah." She dropped the head back into the cooler, her grace tugging the lid down and locking it as she brushed her hands off on her jeans. "Good going, genius. You cut if off above the voice box. No wonder it ain't talking." Her wings flicked as she let out a low breath. "Where'd you leave the body?"

"Back a few miles." The tightness in Dean's words displayed his displeasure, and Alex slid over the seat so she was sitting at his side. "You mean you want to go back and put Frankenstein here back together again?"

Alex opened her mouth, ready to correct his reference, but she gave up with a roll of her eyes. "You got a better idea?"

Her answer came as Dean shook his head, and the car rumbled as he shifted back into drive. "Tell Sam we're going back to the crime scene," Dean muttered. "Have him meet us there." The car lurched forward, and Alex reached for her phone as it rushed off down the road.

...

 **T** he body of Deputy Donelly lay several yards away from the blood spattering that stained the ground, and Alex shot if a disapproving frown as she hauled the cooler out of the backseat of the Impala, her broken black wings flittering as the body gave a sudden, violent twitch. "Gross." She set the cooler down onto the ground with a roll of her eyes, and she heard the car door slam as Dean joined her out on the grass. "How do you want to tie him up?"

"I've got rope back here." The keys clinked in the lock as Dean opened up the trunk, and Alex hauled the spasming body up into a kneeling position. With a grimace, she wrapped her arms around his chest to hold him up, head tilted back to avoid the bloody stump that was its neck. She shifted when Dean started lashing the wrists together, and finally let the body go limp again when it seized.

She crossed over to the cooler and pulled out the head, chuckling as it snarled. "It's kind of cute, don't you think?" The head snapped against, and Alex held it out towards its body, her own head tilting as she contemplated what to do. "Do I just … put it back on?"

The only answer came in the form of a shrug, and Alex slowly lowered the head down towards its neck. She kept her grace tucked inside, despite her curiosity, as the flesh knit back together beneath her hands, the wet, squelching sound filling the air. "Deputy." Alex stooped to look the bound monster in the eyes, her lips twisting in a smirk. "Mind if we ask you a few questions?"

Donelly's fangs retracted as he spat in her face, and Alex straightened up with a huff. "I ain't talking with you," he snarled, and Alex's fingers twitched as she reached around her back.

"Whoa." Dean caught her wrist, stopping her before she found her weapon. "We need him alive for a bit." Alex tugged against his hold, her lips pursed, but the Winchester didn't budge. "Take a seat if you can't keep it together."

"I know how not to kill someone." Alex ripped herself free with a roll of her eyes, and she returned her hands to her side. "But if he doesn't want to tell us who the alpha is, then we get to make him." She turned back to the nechzehrer, who was watching her with a disdained scowl. "Who's your daddy, huh?"

The nechzehrer chuckled, and Alex flicked her wings in displeasure. "You talk like you know who I am."

"That's because we do." Dean stepped forward, his arms folded across his chest. "You're a nechzehrer. And we know that one of your kind's been turning people in this town. And that one of them killed the sheriff."

"Lily." Deputy Donelly's lip curled up into a snarl as he spoke the name. "Rookies like her aren't up to snuff when it comes to keeping their feeding's quiet. I told her to wait until I could teach her myself."

"So you're the alpha."

"And you ain't as dumb as you look." Donelly met Dean's realization with a quip of his own. He looked between Dean and Alex, and his eyes visibly darkened as they came to rest on Alex's face. "I'll take it Lily ain't alive no more."

"Her and two others of your pals." Alex reached back to draw her angel blade, twisting the metal so it caught in the afternoon light. "One poke with this thing … they all went down easily enough." She tucked her weapon back away, crouching down so she was level with Donelly. Her feet scuffed against the dirt as she did so, ready to shift back if the monster decided to lunge. "How many have you turned?"

"In the first hundred years? Three. In the last month?" Donelly grinned. "Sixteen."

His eyes turned upwards as Dean scoffed, and Alex followed his gaze. "What," the Winchester joked, "are you trying to field a baseball team?"

The humor was lost on the nechzehrer, whose round face hardened. "I need help, every strong hand I can find," he began, and Alex frowned at the note of gravity in this tone. "And I need an army to fight the Darkness." Alex glanced up at Dean, her wings twitching in concern, and Donelly chuckled. "Oh, it's coming for all of us. There's nothing hunters or any human can do about it."

Two steps took Dean to Alex's side, and she rose to her feet. "Do you know how to stop it?" she demanded.

The monster shook his head. "I don't think anything can stop it. I'm just trying to buy some time, so I'm turning as many strong men and women as I can." Donelly paused, his eyes turning between the two of them in an almost thoughtful manner. "Your brother will make a fine addition to the rank and file," he finally said, nodding towards Dean, and Alex felt the Winchester stiffen in surprise. "You'd make a good soldier, too, but you cut my head off, and I can't stand for that." Dean took a step forward, anger marring his face, but the nechzehrer didn't flinch away. "Oh, don't worry," he promised. "I'm an 'every part of the buffalo' kind of guy. Your death won't go to waste. You'll be your brother's first meal."

"Damn." Alex blinked, and her feathers rustled in amusement. "That's some pretty big talk, considering, well, one …" She motioned between herself and Dean, "it's two against one. Two, you're all tied up. And, uh, three, I'm the one with the pokey death stick."

Donelly laughed, the sound a rough, harsh scoff. "I'm going to tear the two of you to shreds." Ropes ripped as he rose to his feet, his teeth bared as his fangs dropped down, glinting in the sun as Alex stepped back in surprise. Her hand went back for her weapon, but she stilled herself before she could grasp it, fingernails digging into her palm. Not yet. She had promised Sam that she would wait.

The nechzehrer threw himself forward, and Alex dove to the side, rolling with her shoulder as she hit the dirt. She heard a punch land, telling her that Dean hadn't ducked as she had, and she let her momentum carry her back up to her feet. Her wings stretched out to balance her as she spun around.

She barely had enough time to hit the dirt once again as Dean flew past her head, and she winced as she heard him hit a tree trunk with a heavy thud. "Dean?" Her grace stretched out to find the Winchester unconscious, his head lolled back against the grass.

Hands grabbed her jacket, hauling her to her feet, and Alex lashed out, breaking free of the nechzehrer's hold. "Don't touch me," she warned, a hand extended as she positioned herself between him and Dean. "Calm down, and let's just talk, okay? You — you've got to have some bad-guy speech prepared."

She ducked a punch and twisted away, reaching out to steady herself against the Impala as Donelly turned. Alex slipped forward, raining blows down upon the monster. Each one was blocked, and then hands grabbed her and lifted her into the air. The ground disappeared from beneath Alex's feet, and her broken wings flapped uselessly as she was flung backwards.

Glass shattered beneath her as she landed on the windshield, and Alex grunted in surprise as the breath was crushed from her lungs. She tried to roll off to the side, but her limbs refused to move, still shocked from the blow. Her grace pulsed outwards, restoring movement, but it was too late; Donelly hauled her back to her feet. "I thought about turning you," he hissed, and Alex turned her head away as his face inched closer to hers. "But you're so damn small."

Her back hit the ground as she was thrown away, and Alex pushed herself to her knees, wings rising as the monster approached. "Watch it, Deputy Fat Ass," she warned. "Just cause I'm smaller than you doesn't mean I can kill you with a snap of my fingers."

Her fingers came together, poised and ready as her grace flicked out in rage, but her threat died as her head snapped to the side. Monster forgotten, she probed at the Impala's interior, blinking as her grace brushed copper. There was copper in the car.

Alex threw herself at the door, flinging it open and falling onto the carpeted floor. It had to be a coin she was feeling; maybe a loose penny had fallen beneath the seats. She screamed as the door slammed shut with a supernatural force, crushing her legs, and her grace snapped out. The window above her exploded into shards, and the force sent the door flying back open with a bang.

Her fingers closed around a piece of fabric, and Alex yanked it out from beneath the seat. It was a purse, small and dark, and the angel ripped it open to find coins. This was it.

Her grace rushed through her, and Alex pushed herself to her feet and spun around to face Donelly, who was gripping his jaw with a deep-set scowl. Her eyes flickered down to Dean's machete, which lay by his outstretched hands, and she broke into a run towards it, dropping to one knee to slide as Donelly tore after her.

He crashed into her, and Alex dug her hands into his stomach as he tried to pin her to the ground. The purse fell, spilling its contents into the grass, and Alex kicked the monster away with a grunt of effort. She reached out, her fists closing around a handful of coins, and as Donelly jumped back towards her, she rolled over.

Her hand collided with his mouth, open wide in a snarl, and she clamped it over his mouth, trapping the handful of change behind his fangs. The nechzehrer's eyes stretched wide in surprise, and his body stiffened.

Alex pushed him off, snatching up the machete as she jumped on top of him. One swing cut through the spinal cord, and Alex felt the life leave his corpse as the head rolled across the grass. "Fuck." She threw her head back, the curse falling from her lips in a loud, drawn-out groan. "That was not worth it." With an angered huff, she drew her angel blade and drove it down into the nechzeher's chest. She felt the tip pierce the dirt beneath, stopping only when it hit a rock, and the angel reluctantly withdrew her weapon. "Stay dead this time, okay?"

She pushed herself to her feet, kicking at the decapitated head to send it bouncing across the clearing. Her eyes turned back onto the Impala, and her wings drew in at the sight. The back right window was missing, the shattered glass decorating the grass below it, and the windshield was caving inwards, the cracked glass looking like cobwebs. "Ah, man." Alex's shoulders slumped. "He's never gonna let me drive now."

A car engine rumbled in the distances, shaking Alex from her thoughts, and she hurried back to Dean, dropping down at his side. He shifted beneath her touch, groaning as his eyes flickered open. "What —"

"He knocked you out cold." Alex shifted back as Dean struggled to sit up, cradling his head in his hands. "Don't worry, though, he's dead." Her eyes flickered back towards the car, and she clenched her jaw; he'd find out soon enough.

A silver sedan rolled into view, and Alex jumped up, leaving Dean to recover on his own. "Sam." She hurried over as the taller Winchester stepped out of the car, her wings stretching out as she saw his eyes turn onto the Impala. "Donelly was the alpha. I … I killed him. The traditional way," she quickly added. "Hopefully that reversed everything."

"It did." Sam tore his eyes away from the Impala, clearing his throat as he did so. "Uh, I got attacked by a couple of them back at the gas station. They must have followed us from the Markham's house. They chased me halfway down the road before they turned back." He looked over at Dean, but his hazel eyes couldn't help but drift back to the car. "What the hell happened?"

"What the fuck happened to my car?" Sam's question was harshly reiterated by his brother, and Alex flinched as Dean pushed himself to his feet. "How the hell did you do that?"

"I wasn't supposed to stab him, remember?" Alex retorted. "I was lucky I found those coins under the seat, otherwise I would still be stalling him." She flicked a wing towards the body, following the action with a point of her finger so the brothers could follow her motion. "If it makes you feel any better, that asshat slammed my legs in the door. I think he bruised them pretty good." She looked down at her jeans, grace flicking across the aching skin, and she looked over at Dean in hopes that her distress softened the blow of the damage.

Dean's teeth ground, but he restrained himself from snapping. "Donelly told us why he's been turning so many people," he finally said, turning his back to the car as he faced his brother. "He's creating an army because he's afraid of the Darkness."

"So even the monsters are scared of this thing." Sam's eye turned across the clearing, passing across the decapitated body and lingering on the broken windshield.

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, well, let them be." He reached into his pockets and dug out the Impala's keys, frowning as he stepped towards his car. Alex scooped up the machete and followed, keeping her eyes low as she passed by the shattered door window. "But the three of us, we're going to stop her."

He paused beside the driver's side door, his hand going up to feel the back of his head, and Alex frowned. "Hey, uh, Dean …" She looked over at Sam, hesitance dancing through her eyes, and he gave her a small, barely perceptible nod. "Uh, you got knocked pretty good on the head there. Do you want me to drive?"

Dean blinked, surprised at the request, and Alex's hopes rose as the silence lengthened. Finally, he unlocked the door with a scoffing laugh. "Hell no," he retorted, and Alex's shoulders fell as he threw open his door. "Get in the back."

 **...**

 **I don't know why this chapter got so long. It took me over an hour just to proof-read lol**


	26. Thin Lizzie

**July 31th, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **"I** think I had another vision last night."

Alex looked up at Sam's words, her fingers hovering over her keyboard. The Winchester was sitting on the other side of the library table, a cup of coffee in his hands, and Alex slowly closed her laptop so she could look him in the eyes. "Another one?" Interest flickered across her face, quickly quelled, and she leaned back in her chair. "What was it about?"

"I don't … I don't really remember." Sam scrubbed a hand through his messy hair, stifling a yawn, and Alex let her eyes drift down onto her phone. The morning had just begun; the sun was probably not even fully above the horizon yet. "I just remember that everything was black, and I had this … this sense of purpose."

He hesitated, unsure how to fully explain himself, and Alex saved him the trouble with a nod. "What do you think they mean? That's the third one you've had, and it's barely been a month."

Sam shook his head. "I have no idea. You … you haven't heard anything?"

"Nothing." Alex flipped her laptop back up, her eyes dropping down onto the screen. "Then again, I haven't slept since we let the Darkness out, and your visions seem to come in dreams, so …" She adjusted her headphones that hung around her neck with a shrug. "It's hard to get dream-visions when I spend my nights out here."

She glanced up in time to see Sam's frown. "I haven't seen Cas in a couple days. Is he still in your room?"

"Yeah, he's basically hasn't moved in a week." Alex's wings twitched, and she shook them out with a shrug. "I can't … I can't go in my room anymore. It's too weird. I feel like every time Cas looks at me, all he sees is my deal. It's uncomfortable."

"He's just trying to help."

The angel drummed her fingers on the wooden tabletop. "He's whining and sad. Like a soggy cornflake," she added after a second's thought. "I don't know how to even start to talk with him when he's like this." With a sigh, she dropped her eyes onto her computer. "When do you think Dean'll be up? I think I have a case."

"He's up right now." Dean's voice came from the doorway, and Alex slung an arm over the back of her chair as she turned to look at him. "What's this case you've found?"

"Well, first I thought I had something where half a town started attacking each other, but it turns out they'd just eaten, uh, rabid possum meat." Alex couldn't help but grin at the story, but her amusement wasn't shared by the older hunter.

"Okay, they do realize that possum is a giant rat, right?" he asked, scowling in disgust, and Alex snorted.

"Uh, actually," Sam corrected, "it's a marsupial."

"None of that's the point." Alex cut the two off with a shake of her head, and her eyes dropped down onto her screen. "Afterwards, I found a second — a better — case. Fall Rivers, Massachusetts. A couple was murdered by an axe at uh, a place called the Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast museum."

Dean opened his mouth, ready to reply, but Sam was quicker, his enthusiasm written across his face. "Wait, wait, wait. You — you mean _the_ Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast?"

Alex nodded, and Dean shrugged his shoulders. "So? It's a B&B and a museum. That doesn't sound like a tourist trap at all."

"Wait, who's Lizzie Borden?"

Alex's question was ignored. "No, no, that — that inn was Lizzie's actual house." Sam's chair creaked as he leaned forward. "In 1892 she hacked up her mom and stepdad there. O-Or allegedly hacked them up," he quickly corrected, and Alex cocked an eyebrow, surprised by his rapt interest. "She was acquitted and spent the rest of her days in Fall Rivers hounded and persecuted by the townspeople."

"So you're thinking revenge killing," Dean finished, and when Sam shrugged, he continued, "But why now?" He dropped down into the chair next to Alex. "It was probably just some psycho fan who's seen too many slasher flicks."

"Maybe." Alex knew her voice didn't sound as confident as her words suggested, and Dean's eyes turned onto her. "Except everything was locked. The inn, the room. There were like a dozen other people in the house and the only thing they heard were the screams. It'd be pretty hard for someone to get in there."

"Well, maybe the murderer was actually competent," Dean retorted, and Alex rolled her eyes. Sam scoffed in disagreement, and Dean suddenly snapped his fingers. "Wait a minute. You —" he pointed to Sam, "you just want to go there because of your, uh, freaky fetish for serial killers."

"It's not a fetish," Sam retorted.

His protest was drowned out by Dean's exclamation of, "You've always wanted to see that house!"

"Dean, two people are _dead_. In Lizzie Borden's home." Sam set his coffee down and closed his laptop, the lid snapping shut. "We have no leads on Amara, and we haven't had any for the past week. I saw we go check this out. Besides," he added, rising to his feet, "the entire Borden clan is buried in Fall Rivers. Including Lizzie."

Dean's lips pursed, the indecision melting into reluctant agreement. "What do you want to do about Cas?"

Two pairs of eyes turned onto Alex, and the angel shrugged. "Last I checked, he just started _The Wire_ ," she said. "He's going to be busy for a long time still. I'll let him know where we're going, if you two want to go get packed. We can leave in ten." She waited for Dean to nod, rising to her feet when he did. "Alright. I'll be right back." She pushed her chair back under the table and, with a sigh, quietly made her way towards the hall.

...

 **Fall Rivers, Massachusetts**

 **T** he Borden Bed and Breakfast was a small, antiquated house located in the center of a suburban road. The green siding glowed in the faint moonlight as the Impala pulled up along the sidewalk, and Alex threw open the door the moment the engine died. "This doesn't look like much." She scoffed as she made the comment, but it was lost beneath the sound of Dean's door slamming shut.

"Doesn't look much like a serial killer house," he joked, and Alex frowned at his reiteration when Sam chuckled. "Alright, let's get inside and talk to these freaks, huh?"

The inside was just as archaic as the exterior, and Alex wrinkled her nose as she stepped over the threshold and onto the worn hard-wood floor. The bright, patterned wallpaper filled every inch of the walls, and the crowded halls were lined with trinkets and memorabilia. Alex paused to read a framed newspaper on the wall, the title of which read 'Lizzie Borden Acquitted' in big, bold letters.

Sam brushed past her, the touch of his arm jolting her out of her thoughts, and Alex followed the brothers into the main office. A man stood there on the phone, his back half-turned to them. A glint of light caught Alex's eye, and she turned to examine a framed axe that hung on the far wall. "The hell?" She kept her voice low so the man on the phone couldn't hear her. "Is this the actual axe?"

"I think so." Sam's voice was lifted with excitement, and Alex couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Wow." His gaze dropped down onto a porcelain doll that sat on the table beneath it, and he scoffed. "So, I guess Lizzie Borden has her own doll."

"Yeah, went a little overboard with the crazy eyes," Dean said from the other side of the room, and Alex stepped away to observe the rest of the decorations.

"No, it's absolutely not a crime scene anymore," the man on the phone snapped, his voice rising in desperation, and Alex turned an ear in his direction, eyes on a magazine in an attempt to appear busy. "The room's been cleaned and you're not even on the same floor. There's no reason in cancel!"

Alex heard the other end of the line click as the customer hung up, and the clerk behind the desk let out a frustrated sigh. "People still freaked out about the murders, huh?" Dean guessed.

"Some people find it exciting." With another sigh, the man hung up the landline and turned his attention onto them. He ran a soothing hand down his red-checkered, old-fashioned garb, and Alex lifted an eyebrow at the sight of the red ascot. "Can I help you three?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "We read about the tragedy, and I'm a bit of a history buff. I just wanted to ask. Do you think the killings had anything to do with Lizzie Borden? I mean, her ghost, or whatever?"

"Probably just some crazed fan broke in, right?" Dean was quick to add, his skepticism clear.

The man looked between them, reaching up to adjust the grey toupee that sat upon his head before answering. "These are great questions, guys. Ones we usually answer for our paying guests."

Dean and Sam exchanged looks, and Sam cleared his throat as he reached for his wallet. He was stopped from speaking, however, by the sound of a woman's voice. "Mason!" An older woman stuck her head into the room, her face darkened in a scowl. "You forgot to cancel the bakery order!"

"Mom!" Mason's cheeks flushed, and his eyes flickered across the three hunters. "I'm with customers!"

The woman continued on as if he hadn't spoken. "Two hundred dollars worth of danish and no guests to eat it! This is coming out of your paycheck!"

"These guys could put away a few." Mason looked up at the two Winchesters, and Dean nodded in agreement. Alex turned her head to watch the woman walk away, and Mason's shoulders fell.

"Whew!" It was Dean who broke the impending silence. "Working with family can be tough."

Sam's head snapped to the side to stare at his brother, the corners of his lips taut at the insinuation, but neither Dean nor Mason seemed to notice. "Twenty years." Mason flipped open the guest book with a shake of his head. "You'll have your pick of rooms."

"We'll take the one the couple was in."

Mason's eyes widened at Sam's matter-of-fact tone. "T-The deceased couple?" he stuttered, and he looked over at Dean, unsure whether or not Sam was joking.

Dean nodded. "Uh huh," he agreed. "We came a long way to see some ghosts. We figured there's the most unrest there."

"Uh, we're not renting that room right now," Mason began. "Out of respect." His eyes widened even further as Dean dug out his wallet, flipping through the paper bills until he had counted out forty dollars. Mason watched as the money was placed on the desk in front of him, and his eyes dropped down onto the guest book. "But, you gotta get back on that horse sometime," he finally joked. "Luckily, we redid the room."

Sam flashed a half-hearted smile. "Great. And now that we're paying guests … did you hear or see anything usual that night?"

"Not til we heard the screams." Mason pocketed Dean's money with a shake of his head. "I told mom to stay downstairs and I ran up there. Oh, God. Blood." He winced at the memory, and Alex's feathers twitched in understanding.

"Who was the couple?" she asked. "I mean, did you know them?"

"I've … seen them around." Mason shrugged. "They're local kids. Nothing special about the girl, but the guy … he was a descendant of the original Bordens."

"Huh." Alex grunted out the word, glancing up at Sam to see his reaction. The Winchester's face went momentarily blank with surprise, followed quickly by elation before he extinguished his emotions. "Well, thanks."

She stepped back as Sam accepted their room key, and she took one last look around the small, crowded museum room as she let the brothers take the lead towards the old wooden staircase. The steps creaked beneath each step, and the angel's wings flicked as they reached the top floor. Sam led the way down the hall, key in hand, and he eagerly unlocked their room and stepped inside.

Both Winchesters froze in the doorway, and Alex pushed her way between them, eager to see what had rendered both brothers speechless.

The room inside was small and pink. A single bed lay on the wall next to the door, the thin mattress covered by a pink, flowery comforter. The blankets matched the wallpaper, and Alex grimaced at the pattern as she traced it across the walls. "I don't know where to put my eyes." Dean was the first to speak, and Alex reluctantly stepped further into the room to let the brothers in. "I think I'm gonna throw up."

"We're surrounded by doilies." Sam grimaced as he moved past Alex, and the angel stifled a shiver. "They're everywhere."

"Great." Alex stuck out her tongue in a show of disgust. "Glad the guy downstairs mentioned this before he completely ripped us off." She crossed over to the window and peered out at the street beneath. "And only one bed? Looks like I'm not sleeping tonight, either."

Dean groaned at the sight of the single bed, and Sam circled around to stand closer to Alex. "Well, Dean's gonna have to get himself another room because this was Lizzie's original room, and I'm not giving it up."

Alex turned in time to see Dean scowl. "What are you, four?"

The buzzing of an EMF detector reached her ears, and Alex stepped closer to Sam to see the flickering red lights. "What the hell?" She reached out to take the meter from his hands, waving it about through the air. "That's a lot of EMF." Dean entered the bathroom, and she took a step in his direction.

"Yeah, look at that." Sam reached over to take it back from her, a grin upon his face as he carried it across the room, checking each corner. "That jives with what people online have been saying about the upstairs. Crying in empty rooms. Footsteps. Buzzing lights." He paused beside the closet and threw open the door, and Alex frowned as the incessant buzzing suddenly ceased. "Huh." He reached in and rapped on the drywall with a frown. "No secret panels or passageways in the closet."

"Well, the world's smallest bathroom in clean." Dean's voice came from the bathroom doorway, and Alex slipped past him to peer inside. The counter was porcelain, the walls decorated in the same pink Victorian decor. "What's that smell?"

"I think it's this." Alex heard Sam cross the room, the wooden floors creaking under his weight. "It's like lavender toilet water." Alex stepped out of the bathroom to see him standing beside the bed, a crystal bottle with a pink bulb in his hands.

"Bottled toilet water?" Dean scoffed, and Sam looked down at the contraption in his hands, seemingly small in his overly-sized fingers. He squeezed the bulb curiously, and a thin mist sprayed out of the nozzle. "Why do you keep spraying that?"

"I just … wanted to see if the squeeze thing worked." Sam quickly dropped the bulb, his face flushing slightly. "I think it was supposed to be perfume or something."

"Alright, well, I think I'm going to go scope out the rest of the motel," Alex decided, and she shook out her wings as she looked over at the red velvet curtains. "Maybe there'll be something here that I can find. Anything to get me out of this pink-ocalypse."

Sam rolled his eyes, and Dean's hand thudded against's Alex's shoulder, passing through her wings to grab hold. "You mean you, a girl, don't like pink?" he joked, and Alex brushed his hand away.

"The only pink I like is the pink of my enemies' asses after I've kicked them." The angel's grace opened the door as Dean snickered, and she flicked her wings with a huff. "I — you know what I meant, Winchester. Don't read into it."

She stepped out into the hall, and after a second, Dean followed with a chuckle. "Tell you what. You take the upstairs, and I'll go look down." He pushed past her, and Alex stepped aside to give him access to the stairs. "See what you can feel."

"On it." Alex ran her fingers along the wooden railing as she followed the hallway past the stairs. Doors lined the walls, leading into bedrooms, and the angel's grace undid the locks so she could peer inside each one. Nothing unusual.

She let her grace push out ahead of her, feeling through the air, but there was only old wallpaper and musty carpet. There was no sign of unrest, no cold spots. Not a single thing was out of place. She could hear movement at the room at the end of the hall; the sign on the door marked it as 'Private.' She could feel a soul inside, and Alex dismissively flicked a wing. That was probably where the proprietors lived.

A click from the other end of the hall had her turning in time to see Sam slipping through an unlocked door. With a frown, she followed, her footsteps silent as she crossed the hallway. The open door revealed a staircase, ascending upwards into darkness, and Alex's grace rose to her eyes so she could see the attic above. "Ooh. Spooky."

Her words had Sam startling, and she narrowed her eyes as the beam of his flashlight caught her in the face. "Oh." The flashlight fell away, and Alex hid her amusement by shaking out her wings. "It's you."

"Yeah it's me." Two steps carried her to Sam's side, and she peered past him towards the far corner. "Do you hear that humming?"

A low, electrical purr was emanating from the piles of junk behind them, and Sam turned with a frown. His flashlight swept across the covered mess, and Alex let him take the lead towards the clutter. The hum grew stronger the closer they got, and a second, high-pitched whirl of Sam's EMF meter joined in as the hunter turned it on. Alex stretched her grace out, confused by the sound. She could feel the waves of EMF pulsing this close to the source, and she slipped under Sam's arm to pull the sheet off of its pile.

She felt Sam tense, his muscles tightening at the sudden movement, but they quickly relaxed. "What the hell?" Sam knelt down beside the uncovered contraption, and Alex did the same. A small metallic box was pressed into the corner, humming as it ran, and with a flick of her grace, Alex severed it from its power source.

The humming died, and with it Sam's EMF, the meter sliding back down to zero. "Huh. A homemade EMF machine." She looked over at Sam with a toothy grin. "Creepy." Her humor wasn't returned, and Alex's wings drooped. "Sorry your dream house wasn't as haunted as you imagined."

Sam rolled his eyes with a huff. "Yeah, yeah. Shut up." He pushed himself to his feet, tucking the EMF meter back into his jacket pocket as he did so, and Alex rolled the sheet back out over the device before she stood as well. "Come on. Maybe Dean found something."

He lead the way back out of the attic, and Alex followed, sliding into their rented room ahead of Sam. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she let her grace flow out, feeling along the drywall. Three steps carried her to the far end of the room, and she reached up to take a framed portrait of Lizzie off of the wall. "In here." Behind the photo was a small space, carved into the wall, and Alex reached in to tap at a speaker. "This would explain the weird noises people are hearing. Only question is where's the source?"

"Right here." A moan filled the room, and Alex turned to see Dean standing in the doorway, a tape recorder in his hands. "So you figured out the place was rigged, too, huh?"

"Yeah." Sam frowned, not bothering to hide his disappointment. "No Lizzie in the attic, but I did find a homemade EMF generator. We turned the beast off, and what do you know? No more signal."

"Shocker. The, uh, flickering lights? Wired to timers in the wall." Sam's frown deepened, and Dean paused the tape recorder, tossing it dismissively onto the bed. "And that thing? There's more than just one sound. Runnings footstep. Uh, creepy whispers you can't make out. One flushing toilet — not sure what that one's about." He shook his head. "Creepiest thing all night was the asshat outside taking pictures of the damn joint. He ran away before I could find him," he quickly added when Sam's eyebrows rose. "This whole place is a hoax, man. It's a tourist trap, just like I said."

"Yeah, but we still don't know how that couple got axed," Sam reminded. "I mean, how did the killer get in and out?"

Dean grunted, and Alex rehung the picture on the wall. "And well … who's to say it's _not_ something supernatural," she added, reluctant to join either side. "She's pretty infamous in this area. Could be a tulpa. Or it could actually be a ghost. Like the guy downstairs said, they redid this room. EMF could be just faded by now. Just because these guys capitalized on a legend doesn't mean it's not real."

"Maybe." It was Dean's turn to frown. "I don't know. Why don't we Sherlock that over a beer or something and a lobster roll?" He pulled open the door and stepped out into the hallway, and Alex hurried after him, her eyes lighting up at the idea of food. Sam followed, closing the door behind him, and Dean glanced down the hallway with a look of disgust. "I gotta get out of this doily coffin."

...

 **T** he lobster rolls, according to Dean, were subpar, but by the time the bill was paid, all that remained were crumbs. Alex tucked her phone into her pocket as she climbed into the Impala, and the engine turned over as she closed the door. _Cas?_ She lifted the prayer up, feeling along his grace as she did so, but all she saw was a darkened room and a flickering screen. _You okay? I haven't heard from you all day._

 _I'm fine._ The prayer sounded anything but, and Alex stifled a sigh. _I think I'm starting to get the hang of these fictional dramas. They're intriguing._

 _Um, well, make sure you get up and take in some sunshine, okay? It's not good to stay inside in the dark like that._

"I'm telling you. Die Hard is a Christmas movie." The car lurched forward as Dean turned it down the road, and the headlights illuminated the cracked road ahead. "There's literally a Christmas tree _in_ the film."

"Dude, just cause it's set during Christmas doesn't make it a 'Christmas movie.' " Air quotes followed Sam's words, and Dean rolled his eyes. "It — it needs to be happy, a-and family friendly —"

"Hey, we watched Die Hard with dad every year," Dean retorted, and Sam threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Right, because Dad's sense of family friendly was spot on." Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam was faster. "Dude, he gave me a handgun for my tenth birthday."

With a sigh, Alex cut off her prayer and straightened up in her seat. "Are we really still fighting about this?" She kicked at the seat in front of her, and Dean glared through the rearview mirror. "We've been talking about this for like, over ten minutes already."

"This is important. I …" Dean trailed off as the Impala rounded the corner, and Alex leaned forward, the argument forgotten. Police cars lined the street in front of the Borden Bed and Breakfast, their red and blue lights flashing in the night. "What the hell?" Dean pulled the Impala up alongside the curb, and Alex jumped out of the car, waiting for Sam and Dean to join her. She heard the click of the glovebox before the car doors opened, and she accepted a leather-bound ID from Sam's hands.

A flash of their badges let them into the home, and Alex's grace pressed out to find the source of the commotion. "Another death." She pushed past the brothers to take the lead, winding down the hall and ascending the stairs. She paused, looking up and down the halls, and her eyes landed on the police crowded in the doorway of the room marked 'Private.'

Four paces took her to the door, and she slid past the officers as she bee-lined for the sheet-covered body that lay by the bed, ignoring their voiced surprise. "FBI," she heard Sam explain, and she drew back the sheet as Dean crouched beside her.

The corpse's pale skin was barely visible beneath the blood, and Alex took a moment to take in the scene before her before she pointed to the deep gashes in the woman's neck and back. "Axe wounds." Alex looked over at Dean with a small frown. "Just like how the couple died."

"Detective Madsen?" Sam crossed the room to speak with a middle aged man, and Alex's eyes drifted onto the figure in the chair beside him. The blanket clutched tightly around his shoulders hid any distinguishing bodily features, but she recognized his face immediately; he was Mason, the man who checked them into their room earlier that evening. "I'm Agent Collins."

The detective rose to greet Sam, but Mason's eyes went wide with shock. "You weren't FBI earlier!" he blurted out, and Alex shifted on the floor as Dean pushed himself to his feet.

Sam tucked his badge into his jacket, unperturbed, and Alex returned her attention to the corpse in front of her. "Well," she heard him begin, "um, my partners and I were undercover investigating the original murders."

Alex's grace ran across the body, expanding to the rest of the room when it found nothing. "Where the hell were you when my mother was being —" Mason cut off with a choked sob, and Alex reluctantly replaced the sheet and rose to her feet.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Kemper." Sam's apology sounded sincere, and Alex's eyes flickered over to Dean. He was standing with his back to the cops, his EMF meter in hand, and Alex frowned to see that the device was silent. No EMF. No ghost.

With a scowl and a shake of his head, Dean pocketed the meter and turned to face Detective Madsen. "We're gonna catch the son of a bitch who is doing this," the man was promising Sam. "Mason had just finished locking up. No one was inside but him and Mrs. Kemper. Staff went home an hour ago."

"Hi, um, I'm Agent Gabriel." Dean stepped forward, his badge in hand. "Listen, I saw a guy hanging around earlier snapping some photos, and he ran away when I tried to make contact."

Detective Madsen's face tightened. "Let me guess. Short. Chunky. Baby-faced?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"Huh." The man let out a sigh, shaking his head in almost a disappointed manner. "Yeah, that's Len. Total teddy bear. I went to high school with him. He's obsessed with ghosts but harmless."

"Ghosts?" Sam repeated the word, his interest piqued, and he looked over at his brother, who only offered up a half-hearted shrug. "Hm. Is that a real issue around here?"

"According to the Chamber of Commerce, absolutely." The detective chuckled at his own joke, but when the hunters didn't share in his humor, he sighed again. "I'll send an officer to Len, get a statement from him."

He turned to go, but Sam stopped him. "Uh, you know what? You guys got your hands full. We'll, uh, we'll drop by." He waited until Madsen nodded before he stepped back with a hurried, "Thanks."

Alex followed the brothers out of the bedroom, shaking out her wings as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "Are we thinking Len saw something, or that he's the crazy axe murderer?" she asked as they stepped out of the front door, and she quickly lowered her voice as an officer hurried past.

"It can't be a ghost." Dean answered her question before Sam could, and he reached for his keys as he shook his head. "That place was clean. No EMF. Which means whatever we're dealing with —"

"Isn't a ghost," Sam finished, and Dean nodded. "Great." Sam circled around to the passenger side, and Alex followed, casting one last look back towards the inn. "Well, if Len's been lurking there as much as that detective suggested, maybe he still saw something."

Dean merely grunted, and the conversation lulled as the engine roared into life. Alex turned her attention down onto her phone as the Impala lurched on down the road, appeasing herself by scanning an old article on the Borden B&B to pass the time. "Well." It was Dean who eventually broke the silence, and Alex lifted her eyes from her phone. "So far we've got squat that says ghost. Or anything remotely us."

"So maybe it's not our usual kind of gig?" Sam reluctantly asked. "Maybe we're dealing with a serial killer?"

Dean shrugged, and Alex leaned forward in her seat. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?" she teased. Sam's frown was evident even in the darkness, and she quickly added, "I'd be down for some old-fashioned serial killer hunting, too. Fun to find, easy to kill."

She stifled a grin as Sam and Dean exchanged looks in the front seat. "You know how bad that sounds, right?" Sam began, and Dean added, "They're still people."

They're just monsters without the fangs." Alex shrugged, not offset by their words. "Hell, they're probably worse. At least monsters kill to eat."

"Well, like I said, people are crazy."

The ringing of Sam's phone had Dean falling quiet with a shake of his head, and Alex returned to her seat, back pressed up against the warm leather as Sam answered. "Agent Collins." He listened, and Alex refrained from eavesdropping as his frown deepened further. "Yeah. Thanks for letting me know." He hung up with a grimace. "Another axe vic," he reported, "this one miles from the B&B."

"Lizzie left home."

"Apparently." Sam tucked his phone back into his jacket with a shake of his head. "Alright. I'll take the crime scene. You and Alex go talk to Len."

"Alright. We'll get you a car." Dean turned the Impala off of the main road, rolling towards a half-filled parking lot that sat in front of a bar, and Alex reached for the door handle as the car came to a stop.

"I'll call you if I get something." Sam held open his door so Alex could take his spot in the front, and she watched him disappear into the darkness towards the empty cars.

The Impala rolled away, the headlights turning back towards the main road, and Alex settled down in her new seat. "So, how far away are we from Len's place?" she asked.

"Not far. Couple minutes tops." Dean shrugged, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel as he guided the car across the intersection. "You, uh, you talked with Cas recently?"

Alex felt his gaze upon her, and she shrugged. "He's good, I think. I checked in with him after dinner, and he was still watching Netflix. I told him to get out side for a bit. Staying cooped up like that … it's not good for you, you know?"

"Just give him time." Dean accelerated through a yellow light, and Alex couldn't help but huff at his words. "We all have those days."

"It's been _weeks_. And he picked one hell of a time to take a mental health month." Alex carefully wove a shield around her mind, keeping Castiel out. She could still feel him, lying unmoving in her bed, and she sighed. "The Darkness is out there, Metatron is out there, and all he cares about is Crowley a-and Netflix! There's bigger things out there than my deal!"

No answer came, and Alex looked up to see the Impala stopped in front of a brick rambler. "We can talk about that one later." By the tone of Dean's voice, he didn't seem like he intended to uphold his promise, and Alex rolled her eyes as she followed him out of the car; trying to wring an emotional response out of Dean was like trying to give a wendigo a bath.

Dean knocked on the front door, and Alex turned her eyes out across the messy, unkempt lawn. Overgrown weeds crowded out the grass, winding among the discarded junk, and the angel shook her head with a disgusted click of her tongue. Her eyes turned back to the house when the door swung open, her fingers closing around ID in her pocket. "Len Fletcher? Agents Gabriel and Singer." Dean introduced them with a wave of his hand, and Alex flashed her badge in the direction of the short, wide-eyed man. "You were at the Lizzie Borden B&B earlier this night, weren't you?"

"I — I …" Len stuttered, his eyes widening even further as he looked between the two of them before he bluntly lied, "No."

"Can we come in?" Dean hardly waited for an answer before he stepped towards the threshold, and Len stammered out his consent as he jumped aside to let them in. Alex flashed him a smile as she followed Dean inside, and the warm informality relieved some of the tension in Len's face. "Uh, can I get you agents something to drink?" he offered as he closed the door behind him, but both Alex and Dean shook their heads.

The living room, much like the house, was small, its petite size accentuated by the clutter. Cupboards and bookshelves were filled with memorabilia and paraphernalia centered around the paranormal, and Alex frowned as she recognized two faces on a book cover; the title confirmed her suspicions. _Ghostfacers: Tales from the Crypt and Beyond._ "Aw man, they wrote a book?"

Her disgusted mutter was overshadowed by Dean's words, and she looked up to see him standing in front of a photo of Lizzie Borden. "Well, I didn't expect to see her here."

"Well, you gotta live your bliss." Len's smile was less than convincing, and Alex cocked an eyebrow as she crossed the room to stand next to Dean.

"Heh." Dean turned to face Len, and Alex took the moment to study the picture of Lizzie. The Borden collection expanded beyond the cabinet, and she hurriedly catalogued the carefully organized mess; it was just as impressive a collection as the one at the Borden house. From the slight widening of Dean's eyes, he had noticed the size of it too. "Boy, you are a Lizzie Borden … I don't think 'fan' covers it."

"Superfan," Len stated, and a hint to pride crept into his tone. "And curator."

"Hm. And is that what you were doing earlier at the B&B? Uh, curating?" Dean shoved his hands into his pockets as Len's eyes widened, and the man started stuttering out the beginning of an excuse before Dean cut him off. "Len," he reminded firmly, "it's best to go with the truth here."

Len's shoulders fell, and Alex noted a faint blush that spread across his cheeks. "I was trying to get a picture of Lizzie's ghost," he finally admitted.

"And is that what I saw you with?" Dean pointed to the corner of the room, where an antique camera and its stand leaned up against an oak bookshelf.

"Yeah." Len hurried over to it and picked it up, carrying it two steps in their direction so both hunters could see the device more clearly. "It's, uh … it's what the victorians used for spirit photography," he explained.

Alex looked the camera up and down. "Huh. You ever catch any, you know, any ghosts on it?"

"Well," Len began slowly, and Alex hid a smile at his hesitation, "I've _seen_ Lizzie at her house. She's this wispy, grey shadow. But she never shows up on film." He looked down at the old camera with a thin frown and added in a softer voice, "Maybe I should go high-def."

Dean grunted in faux-understanding, and Alex's wings flicked, amused at the idea. She glanced over at Dean as she asked, "So why don't you just go in the house, then? I'm sure you'd have a better chance of seeing Lizzie."

"I'm not exactly allowed at the inn anymore," Len admitted, and he turned to place the old camera back to hide the embarrassment reddening his cheeks. "There's a minor restraining order. And there's a gag order not to talk about the restraining order. But, you're federal agents."

The faint lifting of Dean's chin conveyed his surprise. "Buried the lead there a little, Len. Why don't you tell me about the restraining order?"

Len frowned, reluctantly turning back around to face Dean and Alex, and the angel cocked her head, awaiting his explanation. "It was Lizzie's 155th birthday, and I couldn't get Lizzie's room so I stayed in the basement … for a couple days." The embarrassment in his cheeks returned. "Weeks. I — I wasn't bothering anyone."

"So it's safe to say you know the inn pretty well," Dean concluded, and Len quickly nodded his head. "Huh. Let me ask you, did anything about tonight strike you as weird?"

"Just you banging on the window." The computer on the other side of the room suddenly dinged, and Len's head rolled back in a mixture of exasperation and dismay. "Oh God, no. I'm supposed to lead a live chat about the axe murders in Fall Rivers. I'm not Lizzie CNN!"

"Yeah, I don't know why anyone would think that."

The flat sarcasm in Dean's tone was lost on Len as he turned toward his desk, shoulders slumping forward. "I'll close it down," he promised. "Be right back." Alex watched him go with a thin frown, puzzled by his sudden outburst. She let her grace rise up, feeling out into the house around them, searching for anything that may point them in the right direction.

She felt Dean wander off from her side, followed by the rustling of paper, and she drew her grace back at his sharp inhalation. "Dean?" She turned, lips pursed into a worried frown, and her feathers ruffled to see Dean holding up a sheet of paper, the Mark of Cain sketched clearly in the corner. "What the hell?" Her head snapped over to Len, still at his computer, and she squared her jaw to keep her voice level. "Len? Where did you see this?"

Len's eyes went wide as Dean held the paper up to him, and the color drained from his cheeks. "Uh, a-a site about ghosts? The paranormal?"

Alex scoffed, and Dean crossed the room to thrust the drawing into the man's face. "Len, you might be the worst liar I've ever met," he snapped. "Tell me where you've seen this symbol. I'd take you down to the station and ask you there," he warned when Len hesitated, "but then we'd have to involve the local police, your restraining order …"

"Okay." Len squeezed his eyes shut, and Dean took a step back to give him space to answer. "Okay, uh … I was outside Lizzie's house a couple nights ago trying to get a picture of her." He shivered, opening his eyes, and for the first time, Alex noticed how cold and dull they were. "There was this girl there. I guess she wanted to see where Lizzie got axed, too. We started talking and she — she freaked me out. The way she said that Lizzie had 'serial killer eyes.' I ditched her pretty quick after that."

"And you didn't tell the police," Dean added.

"A: restraining order?" Len reminded. "B: what am I supposed to say? I was hanging out talking murder with a little twelve-year-old girl in the middle of the night?" Curiosity got the best of Alex, and she stepped forward, two fingers pressing up against Len's forehead as her grace rushed in. "Hey! What the hell?"

"Alex?" Dean's eyes narrowed as he watched, and Alex stepped back, shaking out her wings. "Everything okay?"

 _He has no soul_. The words sat bitter on her tongue, but Alex held them in. "I'll tell you later," she promised, voice terse as she tried to keep the darkness out. "Where does that symbol come in, Len?"

"S-She had it on her shoulder." Len looked between her and Alex, unsure of what had transpired. "I don't know if it was a scar or a birthmark."

"What did she look like?" Dean demanded, and Alex looked up to see that his shoulders were squared, his head lifted stiffly.

"Uh, a girl." A faint hint of panic began creeping into Len's voice at Dean's ferocious urgency. "Amara. That's what she said her name was." He watched as Dean's eyes flew open in surprise, and he asked, "You know her?"

"Her name was Amara? And she had that mark?" Alex pointed to the paper still in Dean's hands, slightly crumpled from the hunter's fingers, and Len nodded. "And you said that she was _twelve_?"

Len shrugged. "Maybe a little younger or older," he guessed, and when Alex and Dean exchanged confused frowns, he added, "Who is she?"

"She's a runaway," Dean lied, and Alex forced her wings to lay flat against her back. Amara, the soul-sucking Darkness, was in town. And she wasn't a baby anymore. "Do you know where Amara is now? Is she still in town?"

"I don't know. Why — why are you looking for her?"

Dean's lips pursed together. "I'm not at liberty to discuss that," he stated, and Alex gave a firm nod of agreement.

To her surprise, Len's eyes stretched wide. "You have to tell me," he pleaded. "Please. I need to find her!"

"Why?" Alex tipped her head, confused by the rush of emotion. Len hesitated, and the angel's wings curled forward. "Something happened to you," she guessed, and her conjecture was confirmed by the fear that flickered through Len's eyes. "What happened?"

"You won't believe me." Len's voice was quiet, and it took him a second before he reluctantly continued his tale. "I — I turned to go, but she … she grabbed me. On my face. I don't know what that girl did to me, but I haven't been right since. I can't eat. Or sleep. I don't dream. And all the things I used to love — my Lizzie blog, the ghost conventions — they leave me _cold_." He looked around at his things with a small shake of his head. "I put this whole collection on Ebay last night. Now it belongs to some machinist in Ohio."

"Well, what about the superfan curator living the bliss?" Dean asked, but Len only shrugged.

"Just playing the part of what I used to be," he admitted. "You know. Fake it til you make it. O-Or feel it."

"Okay, well, what about tonight?" Alex looked over at Dean, her grey eyes flickering across the hunter's face before they turned back onto Len. "What were you doing at the inn? Were you just 'faking it'?"

"No." Len's eyes went wide, and a touch of desperation crept into his voice. "I was looking for Amara. I want her to put me back. I've always been odd a-and quirky. But I had a life. Friends. And now … I remember how to talk to people, what to say. But I feel like I'm acting. Going through the motions. I'm like a robot puppet man."

His admission was followed by silence, and Dean finally broke it by clearing his throat. "Can I, can I talk with you for a minute?" he asked, turning to look down at Alex, and the angel nodded, lips pressed tightly together as she followed Dean towards the door. "We'll be right back," she heard him tell Len, and her grace flicked through the air as she stepped out into the night.

"He doesn't have a soul." She spoke the words as soon as the door closed behind Dean, and she let her wings flare out into the black air. "Amara — Amara must have sucked it out, that bitch." The insult was muttered under her breath, and she watched as Dean pulled out his phone. "What are you doing?"

"I'm calling Sam." Dean started towards the car, his phone pressed up against his ear as he paced, and Alex hung out against the doorstep, one eye turned towards the window to see if Len was watching. "Alex." Dean pointed across the yard to the neighbors house, the yellow lights in the windows a stark contrast to the night. "Go see if they've seen anything weird, okay? Maybe Len's our Lizzie Borden."

"Sure." Alex turned away with a scowl, not pleased at being demoted to door duty, and her feet carried her across the grass as she walked up to the neighbor's front door. She could see a man through the window, sitting in his chair, and she stretched her grace to feel the house as she rapped firmly on the doorframe. "Agent Singer." She held up her badge the moment the door swung open, ignoring the elderly man's shock. "I just have a quick question about your neighbor Len Fletcher."

She tucked her badge back into her jacket as the man peered past her towards Len's house. "Is he in trouble again?"

"Uh … maybe." Alex drew her grace back inside her body as she forced herself to stand straight. "Have you been sitting there all night?" She motioned towards the window, where the empty chair stood facing the tv, and the man before her nodded. "So you've had a clear view of Len's house."

"Um, that'd be right." The man's blue eyes squinted as he looked behind him into his house. "I can see his driveway pretty good from in there." He paused, and when Alex didn't speak, he took her silence as prompting. "Let's see. He was gone when I came back from my grandson's birthday — he just turned nine, you see — and Len was, um, gone, but I think he came back around … oh, I want to say eight-ish?"

"Eight-ish," Alex repeated. "And you haven't seen him leave since then?"

"No, his car's been in the driveway all night."

Alex looked back towards Dean, who still pacing alongside the Impala. "Alright, well, thank you very much. Have a good night." She nodded her head in a quick acknowledgement of thanks as she turned away, and she hurried back across the yard as the door closed behind her. Dean's eyes turned onto her as she approached, and she shook her head; no, Len couldn't be the killer.

"It's not him," Dean relayed across the phone. "Alex talked to the neighbors and I guess he's got an alibi." He waited for Alex's nod of confirmation, and the angel gave it as she turned her eyes back onto Len's house. She missed Sam's response, but her attention was drawn back to the conversation as Dean snapped his fingers. "Right. The new rules," he agreed, his voice almost mocking, and Alex cocked an eyebrow, unsure of what he meant. "Well, why hasn't he offed anybody? I mean, it took Jenna all of walking downstairs to slit her grandmother's throat."

Movement came from inside the house, and Alex looked over to see Len peering through the living room window, his hands cupped up against the glass as he looked out. Their eyes locked, grey against a flat blue, and Alex flashed him a small thumbs up in some attempt at a comforting gesture. "There is no sensitive way to tell somebody their soul's been sucked out by a prehistoric tween!" she heard Sam yell from across the line, and she snorted as she made her way up the driveway.

The brothers' conversation faded as she stepped through the front door, and she was immediately confronted by Len. "Who is he talking to?"

"A friend." Alex brushed off the question with a flick of her wings. "He's been helping us with this case. And with Amara." She closed the door behind her and asked, "Are you sure there's nothing else you can tell us about her? What did she look like? What as she wearing?"

"Uh, she just looked like a normal kid. Thin, kinda tall. Dark hair and really — I mean _really_ — scary eyes. She was wearing a black dress I think?" Len's brow furrowed as he thought. "That's all I remember, a-apart from the birthmark or — or tattoo. It was dark."

The door swung open, and Alex sidestepped to let Dean through. "Sam's going to meet us in the morning," he announced. "He thinks he might know who the killer is." He barely spared Len a glance as he turned to Alex. "Wife of the newest vic was acting weird. You know, _weird_." The slight shifting of his eyes in Len's direction made his meaning clear. Soulless.

"What about Amara?" Len asked, and Dean finally turned to face him. "Do you — do you know where she is?"

"No. Not yet. Here's what's going to happen." Dean's finger swung over to Alex, and the angel blinked in surprise. "Agent Singer's going to spend the night, just to keep an eye on you. Trust me," he added when Len looked ready to protest. "It's in your best interest. I'll be back in the morning."

"Dean —"

"I'll be back in the morning." Dean clapped her on the shoulder, and Alex scowled as he pulled open the door.

"Wait." Alex caught him on the front step, and the Winchester paused with a small frown. "One question." She closed the door behind her to keep Len from overhearing, and she dropped her voice. "When you were on the phone with Sam, you said something about some, uh, 'new rules'? What were you talking about?"

"Oh, Sam didn't tell you?" Dean gave a dramatic roll of his eyes, and Alex tipped her head to one side. "He's decided that we don't do enough as it is. Now, it's don't just kill the bad guy, but save anyone and everyone in the process. Or in this case, don't kill the soulless, but fix 'em."

Alex's eyes narrowed. "That … doesn't seem practical. I'm pretty sure soulless people are just time bombs at this point." Dean's grunt showed his agreement, and the angel's wings twitched. "I guess that explains why he was pissed when I killed all those necherezers."

"Yeah, don't read too far into it, but you definitely tend to kill first, ask later." Dean's hand thudded amiably against her shoulder to soften his words, and Alex frowned. "Anyways, I'm sure this will all blow over eventually. I'll swing by in the morning."

"Yeah. Thanks for that, Dean." Alex watched him go with a shake of her head, waiting until the Impala's headlights flickered on before she returned to the house. Len was still there, unmoved from where she had left him, and Alex closed the door behind her. "Uh, yeah, so like he said … I guess I'll be spending the night just to, uh, make sure Amara doesn't come by."

Confusion marred Len's face, and Alex's feathers ruffled at the awkward silence that followed her lie. "I … I can make you a bed," Len started, but Alex cut him off with a thin frown. "I — I don't exactly sleep anymore."

"Don't worry about it. I don't sleep either." The roar of the Impala came from outside, and Alex crossed over to the window to watch it drive away. "Great. I think I'm going to circle the block, see if there's anything I can find. Stay here." With a flick of her wings, she returned the door. "Don't go anywhere, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, she stepped outside, letting her wings flare out. Great. Babysitting duty again. With a sigh, she set off down the road.

...

 **T** he Impala sat in the driveway of a white suburban home, and Alex shifted uncomfortably in the backseat, her wings drawn in tight as she pressed up against the side of the car. It was the next morning and, true to Dean's words, he and Sam had come by to pick her on their way to visit the wife of the latest murder victim. Despite Alex's protests, both brothers had decided that the best place for Len was with them, and now, the soulless man sat beside her, twiddling his thumbs as he looked down in his lap. Dean sat in the front seat, leaning back as he waited for Sam, who stood on the front step of the home, his phone pressed up against his ear. "What's taking him so long?"

Alex ignored Dean's muttered question, snaking her grace forward to try and overhear Sam's conversation. "— part of a Federal murder investigation," he was saying, his brow furrowed. "You do _not_ want to hold anything back from us."

She drew her grace back in with a roll of her eyes, resting her head up against the window. The sunlight was warm, despite the surprising chill to the air for mid July, and the angel pursed her lips in a frown. Amara, the baby, was now a preteen. The Darkness was growing up faster than they had ever expected.

The car door opened, and Alex lifted her head to watch Sam slide in beside his brother. "Head north," he directed. "The wife — Dawn — she has a friend named Nate Greenwald. A, uh, a special friend. 136 Hemingway Street."

"On it." Dean pulled the car out into the street, and Alex shifted displeasingly as Len's eyes moved across the three hunters. "You got directions?"

"Getting them now." Sam's eyes didn't lift from his phone, and Alex leaned forward over his shoulder to watch him, her broken black feathers twitching as Len did the same. "So you think Dawn is the killer?" Sam asked. "Was she — was she at the inn?"

"Does she know Amara?"

Sam's head jerked back as he turned to face Len, surprised to find the man so close. "Uh, Len, can you — can you move back a bit?" He shifted uncomfortably until the man moved away. "Just hang tight until we talk to Dawn, okay? Thanks."

"So what happened last night?" Alex asked, reluctantly leaning back to press her wings up against the leather seats. "Dean never told me what you found."

"Yeah. Uh, Bill Pensky was murdered with an axe last night in the driveway. His son's babysitter is the one who found the body." Sam paused as Dean took the corner a little too quickly, and Alex's fingernails dug into the leather seat to keep from sliding into soulless Len. "The son — his name's Jeordi, he's pretty quiet but a nice kid — he was in the house the whole time. I don't think he saw anything."

"Thanks God for that," Dean put in as he rolled through a stop sign, and Alex echoed him quietly.

"Definitely. Uh, Mrs. Pensky got there pretty quickly after I arrived, but when I tried to talk to her, she just … didn't want to talk. She demanded that I leave."

"Yeah, that's pretty sketchy," Alex agreed. "Did she have some sort of an alibi?" Her eyes slid past Sam to turn onto the road, and then down onto his phone to check how close they were.

"She didn't even let me ask her a question," Sam admitted. "Detective Madsen said it was probably just shock, but …" He shook his head. "Shock's one thing, but she didn't even seem to care that her husband had been butchered."

"I know how that is." Len's eyes turned out the window as he spoke. "Kitten videos, chicken and waffles, eucalyptus scent. I just don't care for it anymore." He sighed as the Impala turned down another suburban road. "Used to swoon for dark, curly hair. Now, not so much." He turned to look over at Dean, a hint of concern upon his face. "Do you think I had a stroke? Or maybe it's a brain tumor. What's really freaky is all the stuff that used to make my skin crawl now seems … eh." He shrugged again as the car pulled up into a driveway. "I couldn't shake a guy's hand before. God, that wetness. Now I could lick the sweat off of a stranger's —"

"Okay!" Dean jumped in, cutting the man off, and Alex's wings flittered in disgust.

"Yeah." Len went on as if Dean had barely spoken. "Any body part. I'm serious. I feel weird, man."

Sam paused at the words, and even Alex hesitated, her fingers halted in their reach for the door handle. "Weird?" she repeated, and Len nodded. "Weird, how?"

Len took a second, his eyes narrowing as he thought about his answer. "Like something's hatching inside of me," he finally said. "Something dark. With wings." Sam and Dean exchanged looks from the front seat, a quick, knowing conversation passing between them; Len noticed, and his concerned frown deepened. "What?"

"Nothing," Dean promised, and he threw open the car door to get out. Sam did the same, and Alex hesitated, waiting for the taller Winchester to get out of the way before she followed.

"But you looked at Sam like you guys know what's wrong with me!" Len insisted, leaning out the window to try and catch Dean's attention. He opened his mouth to say more, but he was cut off when Dean grabbed his arm. Handcuffs clicked as they snapped shut around Len's wrist, and Len's eyes stretched wide as the second cuff shut around the outside door handle. "Hey!"

"You don't have a soul." Dean leaned down against the window, firmly meeting Len's gaze, and Alex rolled her eyes at his bluntness. "Alright? Amara sucked it out."

"What?!"

"Dean!" Sam leaned through Alex's window, his lips pressed tight in a thin frown. "You wanna be a little more blunt?"

"How — how is that even possible?" Len added, his voice higher than usual, and Alex pushed open the door so she could slip out beside Sam, muttering a half-hearted apology as the Winchester was forced back into the bushes lining the driveway.

"Look. This isn't just so you don't get in trouble," Dean began, motioning to the handcuffs. "Alright, we'll be right back and then we'll figure out what to do with you."

He drummed on the Impala's roof to emphasize his words as he turned to go, and Len twisted to look back at Sam and Alex. "How do I get it back?" he asked. "M-My soul."

Sam looked down at Alex, his thin frown deepening, and he reluctantly answered, "Generally … you don't."

"Look on the bright side," Alex added when Len fell back in his seat, his eyes staring blankly ahead. "At least when you die, that's it. Just nothingness. I get to go to hell." She ended with a forced smile, trying to add humor to the situation, but it fell flat.

"It feels good to finally know," was all Len said, giving a half-hearted shrug, and Alex sighed as the man fell silent once again.

She followed Sam around the Impala and after Dean, who was standing on the front step, eyes narrowed as he peered through the darkened window. "Well, something happened in there," he announced, and Alex followed his gaze to see the overturned furniture that decorated the interior.

"The blue car is the mom's," Sam added, pointing to the dark blue SUV that sat further up the driveway. "I saw it last night." He and Dean stepped aside so Alex could slide past, and the angel brushed her fingers against the lock, her grace stretching out to grant them entrance to the home.

The door swung open, and Alex reached back to draw her weapon as she let Dean take the lead, his gun raised as he entered the dark house. Alex followed, letting her grace stretch out to feel through the empty halls. "Alright, anyone here?" Dean fell back to her side, his voice a low murmur, and Alex momentarily closed her eyes as she searched the rooms for souls.

"One person upstairs," she announced. "Alive." She let her grace drift down into the basement, adding, "One in the basement, I think." She pushed harder, trying to confirm its presence as she added, "Soulless. They're slippery to track."

"Okay." Dean waved his gun towards the stairs as he nodded towards Sam and Alex. "You guys go upstairs. See if they're okay," he added when Alex frowned. "If they're fine, come meet me downstairs."

He didn't wait for a reply before he moved off further into the house, leaving Alex and Sam standing by the stairs. With a shrug, Sam started up, and Alex followed with a scowl, transferring her weapon to her other hand so she could grasp the handrail as she ascended. "At the end of the hall," she directed, and she tilted her head back slightly to sniff at the air, her grace heightening her senses. "I don't smell blood."

"That's good." Despite her assurance, Sam moved slowly, gun poised as he approached the closet door at the end of the hall. Alex followed, her shoulders forcefully lax, but her grace still prickled nervously; soulless people could be unpredictable — even more so that regular folk. Her grace flickered out to find Dean, slowly descending the stairs.

Sam threw the door open, quickly stepping back with his weapon raised, and Alex turned her eyes back onto the closet when a muffled scream met Sam's actions. A boy was curled up in the closet, bound by the wrists and gagged, his eyes stretched wide in fear at the sight of them.

Sam's gun immediately dropped to his side, and he hurried forward. "Hey, hey," he soothed as the boy, no more than twelve years old, flinched away, and Alex tucked her own weapon out of sight when the boy trembled. "Jordie, it's okay." Sam un-gagged him, pressing his fingers up against his own lips. "We're here to help."

Alex's eyes turned to the hall around her, her grace stretching out to examine the surrounding rooms, and she almost missed Sam calling her name. "Huh?" She drew her wings in as she turned back to Sam, blinking as she did so. "Did you say something?"

"Yeah." Sam rose to his feet, and Jordie followed, steadied by the tall Winchester. "Take him out to the car and get him inside, okay? I'm going to go find Dean."

He nudged the boy towards Alex, and with a reluctant sigh, Alex took his outstretched hand, her wings unconsciously rising as Jordie pressed himself up against her side. "Fine," she relented. "But I'll be right back." She softened her voice to add, "Come on, kid. I'm going to take you somewhere safe."

She led the way down the stairs, her feathers ruffling as she stepped onto the landing. Jordie followed in her shadow, and Alex ushered him outside, her grace slamming the front door closed behind her. "Len." She tugged Jordie down towards the Impala towards where Len sat in the back seat, his gaze focused thoughtfully on his cuffed wrist. He looked up at the sound of Alex's voice, his eyes widening in confusion at the sight of Jordie.

"Where's Agent Gabriel?" he asked, and he leaned his head out the window as he looked towards the house.

"He's still inside." Alex's grace unlocked the door, and she pointed towards the far side. "Go wait in there," she told Jordie, keeping her voice as gentle as she could. "Len will keep you safe until we return."

 _Alex_. Sam's voice rang through her head, and Alex's wings flared up, alarmed by the intensity in his tone. _It's the baby-sitter._

"Just stay here." Alex dropped Jordie's hand as she bolted back into the house. "Sam?" She slammed the door shut behind her, locking it with her grace so neither Len nor Jordie could follow. "Sam, where are you?"

Her grace snaked out towards the basement as her feet carried her towards the stairs, her feathers ruffling out when she found both Winchesters, alive yet stationary. A third figure was there, almost a whisper against her grace, and Alex threw open the basement door with a bang. "Hello?"

She hurried down the stairs, forcing her wings to lie flat as descended. Dean was slouched on the floor, his hands tied behind his back and laced around a support beam. His green eyes seemed off, as if he had just woken up, and she reached out with her grace to make sure he was okay. A small concussion, but nothing major. Her eyes turned onto Sam, who stood beside his brother, and her grace followed suit. He was fine.

Pleased to find both brothers okay, she turned her attention onto the third person in the room. A thin teenager, not much younger than Alex herself, with dark eyes and a blue streak through her thick brown hair. Alex took a second to study her before her gaze dropped down to the rifle in her hands. "Who's this?"

"Sydney. The killer babysitter." Sam answered the question, and Alex cocked an eyebrow as she looked the woman up and down. "She wants to offer us up to her new bestie Amara."

"Oh come on." Alex rolled her eyes, unable to stifle a sigh. "Amara ate your soul and now she's your best friend? Great." She lifted her chin, unwilling to show the fear at the idea of Amara being nearby. "How'd you two even meet?"

Sydney remained tight-lipped, and Alex watched as her finger shifted on the trigger. However, the young adult reluctantly began to speak. "A couple of nights ago I got pretty sloshed," she admitted. "This, uh, this _smug_ , little trust-fund dirt-bag had just dumped me. She walked up to me and she … she did something to me when she just grabbed my face." She fell silent for a second, her thin frown slowly melting away. "Have you guys ever seen the iced tea commercial?" she asked. "Where the lady is lying along the inflatable raft and she's just … drifting along in a sparkling pool? That's what it was like. Being with Amara. Bliss, no hurting. No sadness, no memories."

"Sounds pretty shitty." Alex's grace snapped out to undo Dean's bonds, and the Winchester rubbed at his sore wrists with a scowl. "So what's the plan, guys? Do we kill her?" She reached back to draw her weapon, and her wings flicked as she heard the rifle cock. "If you shoot them, I'll kill you dead."

"Hold up." Sam reached out a hand to stop her, and Alex paused, her grace bubbling beneath her skin. "We don't have to kill her."

"She has no _soul_." Alex stepped forward, shielding the Winchesters from the rifle muzzle while she turned to confront the brothers. "What are we going to do with her? She's killed three people!" She watched as Dean's eyes flickered to the corner of the room, and she followed his gaze to two pairs of bloody shoes lying beneath a stained tarp. "Five people," she corrected. "We can't let her walk."

"Excuse me!" The rifle muzzle pushed into her ribs, a sharp, jarring shove, and Alex's feathers ruffled angrily at the action.

Her eyes met Dean's, and his head dipped in a barely perceptible nod. She spun around, her elbow knocking the rifle out of the way as she lashed out with her blade. Sydney didn't have time to move back before it plunged deep into her heart.

Her body hit the ground with a dull, heavy thud, and Alex drew back, shaking her wings out pridefully at the easy victory. She could feel Sam's surprise spark through the air, followed by indignation, and she tucked her blade back into her jeans before she turned to face him. "It had to be done," she started, but a bang from upstairs had her cutting off.

The basement door flew open to reveal Len, cradling his left hand as he looked down at them. "Are … are you okay?" His eyes dropped down onto the body, the only change in his expression one of pale curiosity, and Alex pursed her lips together in a frown.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked. "I told you to stay in the car. Did you …" Her eyes dropped down to his hand, held tightly against his chest, and she added, "Did you seriously _break_ your thumb?"

"I … I wanted to see if I could." Len looked down at the swollen flesh with a disinterested shrug. "I just ripped my hand out because I could."

Alex rolled her shoulders back, and she stepped past Sydney's body, thankful for the sudden and well-timed distraction. "For Christ's sake," she snapped, and she felt Dean follow her up the stairs. "You're like a child. Give it here." She grabbed his hand, ignoring how he winced in pain at the abrupt movement. His thumb sat in the palm of his hand, torn clean from its socket, and Alex moved the appendage back into place before letting her grace flow inwards to heal the bloody stump. The flesh knit together beneath her touch, and her hand tightened, nails digging into his flesh. Her grace tingled at the soulless man before her, poised to strike out. Sam couldn't be serious; they couldn't leave Len on his own.

A hand on her shoulder had her looking up towards Sam, and the angel let Len pull his hand away as she turned to face the hunter, ready for his reprimand. "We don't need to kill him." Sam's hazel eyes darted over to Len as he spoke, and Alex glanced back towards Dean, curious as whether he would agree with his brother or give her permission to kill.

"Kill me?" Len repeated Sam; despite the gravity of his words, his tone merely held surprise. "It's because I don't have a soul, isn't it? Because I'm going to kill someone one day. I can feel it inside," he explained when Sam's eyes widened in surprise. "Like a bubble rising up."

"I think we should definitely kill him."

"We're _not_ killing him," Sam snapped, and Alex's feathers ruffled, surprised by the vehemence in his voice. "Okay? Not an option."

"Then there's only one thing," Len decided, and he lifted his chin as he addressed Sam and Dean. "I'm gonna turn myself in. I'll confess to all the murders. That way I can't get out." Alex felt the brothers exchange looks over her head, and Len added, "I remember what it was like to do the right thing. So, I'm going through the motions. For as long as I can."

His eyes drifted past them to the bodies on the floor before he turned to ascend the stairs again, and Alex followed with a small shrug. "That's pretty brave of you," she began as they stepped up into the kitchen. "I don't know many soulless people who would give themselves up like that."

"I'll take Len and the kid down to the police station." Dean passed Alex, his keys in his hands, and Alex paused beside the front door. "You and Sam can take care of things here, okay? Make sure there's no trace of us."

"Yeah, sure thing, Dean." Alex watched him go before she turned back to Sam, her eyes flickering across the upturned room before she spoke. "Dean told me about your new rules," she began, and Sam's eyes flickered down onto her. "So, sorry I had to kill that babysitter."

She moved past him, hoping her apology sounded more sincere than it felt, and she heard Sam follow. "No, don't apologize. She didn't give you a choice. Not like Len." He fell silent for a moment, and Alex glanced back over her shoulder to find him standing in the center of the living room. "It kind of makes sense, you know? People having different reactions to losing their soul. I did."

"Maybe," Alex reluctantly relented, and she reached up to rub at her temple as she thought. "They're not like us, Sam. You can't save one and just expect no one else to get hurt." She heaved a sigh and turned to face the Winchester. "So, what's the plan? Amara's getting stronger, and she's got one hell of an appetite."

"Yeah. That's two people in this town that have seen her. We should probably stick around a few more days and see who else turns up." Sam uprighted a chair, his shaggy hair falling in his face, and he took a moment to brush it back with a sigh. "I don't like the idea of just following around the bodies, but at this point, it's all we've got."

"I guess." Alex's feet carried her one step back, and she paused in the doorway to the kitchen. "I'll go get started downstairs. Come get me when Dean shows up." She waited for Sam to nod before she disappeared down the stairs, her shoulders falling as she descended. _Cas?_ She lifted up her prayer, but no answer came. _Hurry up and get back on your feet. We need your help._

 _..._

* * *

 **I keep forgetting to announce this but the upload schedule is every Monday and Thursday. Next week might be a bit off because my best friend is getting married and so I have a lot going on, but I'm hoping that I'll still be able to get chapters up on time!**


	27. My Little World

**August 10th, 2015**  
 **Fall Rivers, Massachusetts**

 **A** lex slumped against the side of the Impala, eyes turned down the road as she heaved a discouraged sigh. The warm summer breeze rustled through the trees above her head, stirring her blonde hair, and the angel turned her gaze across the suburban neighborhood. The street was silent despite the sunny afternoon, the only sign of life being two men at the far end of the block. The Winchesters. Alex didn't need her grace to tell her that; the clean-pressed suits made it clear. They walked side by side, Sam's head tilted slightly down as he spoke with his brother. Alex's feathers pressed up against the car's hot metal frame as she shifted, straightening to try and match their height as they stepped into earshot. "Hey. Find anything?"

Sam looked up at the sound of her voice, and he gave a shake of his head. "Nothing. You?" When Alex merely frowned, he let out a frustrated huff. "See?" he told Dean. "We've been here since Monday and still haven't found another legit victim without a soul. Maybe … maybe Amara moved on or stopped feeding altogether."

"Well, finding her victims is still the best shot we got at finding her," Dean countered; from his tone, they had had this conversation before.

"Dean, that's not exactly true." Sam paused by the passenger side door, and Dean looked over at him with a puzzled frown. Sam's eyebrows lifted in silent communication, his head tipping towards Alex.

"You're talking about Cas," Alex stated just as Dean added, "Oh, what? You think he's ready? He's had a pretty rough go of it lately."

Alex stopped herself from rolling her eyes at the statement. "Which one of us haven't?" she retorted. "Charlie's dead, Rowena's gone, and now some primordial teenager is eating souls. It's all of our faults, but Cas is the only one moping about it."

"I thought you're supposed to be the sympathetic one," Dean joked wryly, and the car doors clicked as he unlocked them. "I think the spell really did a number on him, because he's definitely not been himself."

Alex looked back at Sam to see his thin, worried frown, and she gave a reluctant sigh. "I'll give him a call," she promised, and she reached into her pocket for her phone. She moved away from the car and stepped up onto the sidewalk, leaving the two brothers to talk beside the Impala as she leaned up against an oak tree. Her phone rang once, and then twice, before Castiel finally picked up. "Hey," she greeted, and she let her wings drop low as she felt along his grace. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm fine." The faint hum of the tv lay beneath Castiel's voice, and Alex squinted slightly in an attempt to better hear the voices. "What about you? I felt you block out my grace."

Alex hastily reached up to tear down the barrier, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sorry," she apologized. "I, uh, I figured you would be able to rest better if you didn't have to worry about me hunting." Even from halfway across the country, she could faintly feel Castiel's displeasure with her statement, and she quickly added, "Have you found anything on Metatron?"

"Um, nothing on angel radio —"

The phone was snatched away from Alex, and the angel jumped, surprised by the Winchester's sudden presence. "Let me talk to him," Dean insisted, and Alex stepped away with a shrug. She crossed over to Sam, who was already sitting in the front of the Impala.

"How's Cas?" he asked as she joined him, and Alex's wings twitched as she slid into the backseat.

"From the five seconds I spoke with him? He seems okay." Alex rolled her eyes as she glanced over at Dean, who had taken her place up against the tree. "He's … stressed," she reluctantly added, and she reached out along their joined grace. "And he's still scared. I don't know what to do with him."

"Well, if nothing keeps showing up like this, we'll be home soon." The leather squeaked as Sam turned in his seat to look back at her. "Just … just be there for him, you know? He's delicate. Like a child."

He turned back around as his phone rang, and Alex muttered, "He's millions of years old. He shouldn't be acting like a child."

Sam didn't hear her, too busy on the phone, and Alex turned her eyes back out towards Dean, who was still talking to Castiel. The frown upon his face conveyed his displeasure with whatever conversation was taking place, and Alex sighed. "Thanks for letting me know," Sam suddenly said, and Alex's head tipped, curious by the terseness to his tone. "We'll — we'll head out there right now."

"Something's wrong." Alex leaned forward as Sam hung up, her curiosity piqued, but before Sam could answer, Dean threw open the door and slid into the driver's seat.

"Detective Madsen just called," Sam announced as Dean tossed Alex's phone back to her. "Remember our friend Len? He's dead."

"Dead?" Dean and Alex spoke at the same time, their voices sharp with surprise. "Dead?" Alex repeated. "What — we just left him in custody a few days ago!" She leaned forward as the Impala's engine roared to life, and the car lurched forward down the street.

Sam shrugged, at a loss for an explanation. "They just found him dead this morning. They don't know how anyone got through the police station and into his locked cell." He reached for his seatbelt as they turned onto the main road, and Alex reluctantly slid back into her seat, wings pressed up against the warm leather.

...

 **I** t wasn't long before they reached the Fall Rivers Police Station, and the cool breeze of the air conditioning brushed through Alex's wings as she stepped over the threshold and into the lobby. Sam and Dean walked in front of her, the only sign of their discomfort at the outside heat being the thin beads of sweat that gathered at their hairline. The angel's eyes slid past the brothers and into the room that lay before them, reaching up to pull down the sleeves of her blazer as she made a mental count of the officer's around them. "Agent Collins!" A familiar voice came from the far corner, and Alex recognized Detective Madsen. His graven face was dark, and Alex frowned as he came to stop in front of the brothers. "I'm glad you're here. Come with me."

He waved them into the station, and Alex fell in step at the rear, her dark, broken wings flicking as a police officer rushed past. The angel's grace slipped out to feel out towards their destination as they made their way briskly down the tiled hall. She could hear a commotion towards the end, growing louder as they drew closer, and Sam and Dean suddenly stepped aside as a gurney rolled past. "Hold up." Alex reached out to stop it, her hands coming to rest on the corner of the black body bag that lay atop it. "Agent Singer, FBI. Can you …" She gestured towards the bag, leaving the rest of her sentence unspoken, and the paramedics slowly undid the zipper.

Len's face came into view, pale and bloodstained, and Alex tipped her head as she studied the thin, precise gash across his throat. "Thank you." She stepped back and let the men continue on their way, her wings flicking curiously.

"I thought it might maybe a relative of one of Len's victims," Madsen explained, "but it doesn't feel like a revenge killing. You saw that. Too clean, like an assassin." He came to a stop beside the cellblock, but a call from another officer had him clearing his throat. "Uh, excuse me."

He moved away to address the other man, and Alex stepped forward to stand in front of both Winchesters. "You guys smell that?" she asked, and she tilted her head up to sniff at the air to emphasize her point. Sulfur hung thick throughout the room, and she turned towards the bloodied empty cell at the end of the block.

Dean scowled. "Yeah, either the detective needs to change his diet, or, uh —"

"Sulfur," Sam finished, and he nodded. "Len was killed by a demon."

Alex groaned, her head falling back in disappointment. "Dammit, Crowley. It's got to be him," she added when Sam and Dean exchanged worried glances. "Clearly Amara doesn't care since she let these guys walk soulless in the first place. Crowley's probably cleaning up her messes."

Sam opened his mouth to speak but a loud _bang_ from down the hall had the three turning in surprise. "Hands off, Deputy Doody!" A teenage girl ripped her shoulder from Madsen's hands as she stalked towards the brothers, and Alex's eyes dropped down to the handcuffs as the detective led the girl towards the cellblock. She stepped back to let them through, but not quickly enough, for their shoulders collided. The action was met with a glare from the teen, and Alex lifted her eyebrows in surprise.

"Sorry." Detective Madesn apologized for her, and Alex nodded in his direction, her eyes already narrowing in thought as her grace snuck out. Now that she knew what she was looking for, it was easy to recognize that the teen before them had no soul.

She watched as Madsen locked the girl in a cell near the end of the block, and Alex lifted her voice as he made his way back to them. "Who is she?"

"Goldie Schmidtlapp." The detective shook his head in disbelief. "Was a normal kid, snapped this morning — tried to kill her mom with a frying pan." He sighed, and Alex caught sight of Dean rolling his eyes. She glanced up at Sam, her head twitching towards the teen as she lifted her brow, and surprise, followed by understanding, flashed through Sam's eyes. The silent conversation went over Madsen's head, who had reached up to adjust the hat upon his head. "First the axe murders, then Len, now this?"

"We're gonna need to talk to the kid," Dean announced. Madsen walked away with a shrug, and once he was out of earshot, Dean turned to look down at Alex. "Go get the paint that's in the trunk," he decided. "Whatever got to Len's probably coming after her."

"Good call." With a nod, Alex hurried off down the hall, slowing to a brisk walk as she stepped into the main office room. She slipped past the police officers with a murmured apology, her wings drawn in close until she was past the front desk.

The hot summer air hit her like a brick the moment she stepped out of the safety of the air-conditioned building, and Alex rolled up her sleeves as she crossed the parking lot to the Impala.

It didn't take her long to retrieve the spray paint, tossed carelessly beneath a discarded pile of Dean's old clothes. She tucked the can into her jacket pocket as she slammed the trunk shut, her grace locking it behind her as she hurried back towards the station. She kept her back straight as she entered, her shoulders lax and eyes forward in an attempt to avoid attention despite the obvious bulge in her jacket. She reached the cellblock with little difficulty, and she tossed the spray can to Sam. "Have at it. I'll watch the door."

"The hell you mean by 'demon'?" Goldie was saying, her voice flat with disbelief. "There's no such thing as demons."

The teen stood facing Dean, her arms crossed, and Alex could sense the Winchester's exasperation from across the room. "Oh, but a soul-stealing pre-tween is within the realm of reality?" he retorted. "Listen. Do you want to live or not?"

"Dean." Alex called him over, her grace flicking in displeasure at the sharpness of his tone. "Not so loud, huh? Someone might hear."

"Don't worry. I told Madsen to keep the place clear." Dean brushed off her concern as he exited the cell, holding up the door so Sam could enter with the black spray paint. "I told him we have reason to believe Len's killer is coming back, and that he should keep his men out of the way."

"Huh." Alex's eyes drifted past Dean to watch Sam climb up upon a stool to start working on the devil's trap upon the concrete ceiling. "And if you catch him? What are you going to do with him?" The glint in Dean's eyes made his answer clear, and Alex gave a small nod. "I should probably clear out then. Any demon that sets foot in here is probably going to sense that I'm nearby."

"Good call." Dean's voice sounded distracted as his eyes slid past her, and Alex's grace flicked back to feel a human soul close by; it disappeared with retreating footsteps, and Dean eventually added, "We'll bring whatever we catch back to the motel. Meet us there."

"Will do. I'll grab lunch, too." Alex lifted her voice so Sam to hear. "Text me what you want, and I'll see you guys later. One more thing." She dropped her voice into a whisper as her grey gaze landed on Goldie. "What are you going to do about _her_? You can't leave her. They'll give her, what, a few weeks in jail for a crazy attempt at murder and then back she goes into society."

"So you want to kill her?" Sam's disbelief was clear, and Alex blinked, surprised to find that he had heard.

"Do you want to wait until after she's killed her mom?" Alex countered, and she shook her head without waiting for Sam's answer. "I'll meet you guys back at the motel. We can figure out what to do then." She shoved her hands into her pockets, and, once both brothers had nodded their agreement, she made her way out of the police station and started off down the street.

...

 **I** t wasn't long before the motel door swung open, and Alex looked up from the table. Her wings were stretched out behind her, her broken feathers spread out seek out the thin breeze that flowed from the rattling air conditioner, and she threw an arm over the back of the chair as she looked up at Dean. "Hey," she greeted, and her other arm came to rest on the table, her bare arm warm against the wood. "How'd it go?"

Her question was answered as Sam stepped into the room, guiding a man in after him. The stranger's face was covered with a brown leather hood, and Alex's grace immediately identified him as a demon. She rose to her feet as Dean swung the empty chair around, the legs squealing against the floor. Sam pushed the demon down into it, and Alex crossed over to lock the front door as the brothers secured the stranger to the armrest. "Rise and shine, buttercup." Dean pulled the hood off of the demon's head, and Alex crossed her arms as she leaned up against the wall beside the light switch. Her bare shoulders pressed into the drywall, the sensation barely stifled by her ethereal wings, and she smoothed down the front of her black tank top before she shoved her hands deep into her jean pockets.

The pig-nosed demon scowled as he glared up at Sam and Dean, but the twitching of Alex's wings had his face turning towards her. For the briefest seconds, his eyes widened in surprise, but the emotion was quickly quenched. "What's Crowley doing with Amara?" Sam demanded, and the demon's gaze flickered back onto him.

"Don't know, don't care." His voice was low, his tongue rasping over each word, and Alex pursed her lips together in displeasure. "Wouldn't tell you if I did."

Dean hummed, pleased at the challenge, and Sam crossed his arms. "Well, we already know she grows up fast," he started, and the demon rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, demon souls — they do a body good," he quipped, and his lips curled up in a snarl. "Little Miss Muppet tore through half of my buds before Crowley put her on a diet." He chuckled dryly, and Alex watched as he tugged at the warded handcuffs, testing his bonds. "She didn't like that. Started sneaking out to get her fill." His eyes rolled over to Alex, and his yellowed teeth flashed in a cold smile. "You know how kids are. But daddy put his foot down."

He fell silent, his eyes glittering with distaste, and Alex firmly held his gaze until Dean surged forward, pulling the demon closer as he pressed a knife up against his neck. The carved blade glinted in the motel light, and the demon's attention snapped back onto the Winchester. "Where's he hiding her?" Dean demanded, and a hint of darkened blood leaked from the demon's pale neck.

However, he merely laughed. "I'm happy to keep gossiping with you three, but you want actionable intelligence?" He chuckled again. "Torture me if you want. I know you'll just kill me anyways."

"Hmm." Dean pulled back on the knife, and but his other hand didn't move from where it was planted on the demon's shoulder. "Well, it looks like a stalemate to me. I guess we go ahead and kill him now."

He lifted the knife, poised to strike, but Sam was quick to stop him. "No, no, no. Dean, wait." He hurried forward to grab his brother by the shoulder, holding him back. "We can exorcise him. Save his meat suit," he expounded when Dean's brow knit together in confusion.

Alex pushed herself off of the wall at the suggestion, drawing her wings up tight as she approached. "You want my two cents?" the demon joked, but the humor died away when he met Alex's frown. "You exorcise me, let me smoke out of here, I give you my word not to tell Crowley."

Alex scoffed. "Yeah. Like hell we're gonna do that." She turned to Sam, unsurprised to find confliction in his eyes. "He knows we're looking for Amara. The last thing we need is Crowley on the scent —"

"Why is it that all you do is tell me we need to kill them?" Sam countered. "We used to save people, remember?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm _doing_. There's a bigger picture here than just that guy's life." Alex jerked a thumb towards the demon as she spoke. "If we let him go, he just finds a new meatsuit and kills who knows how many, and that's on us — Sam." She cut off when Sam pushed past her, his eyes on the demon, and the angel frowned. "Hey, I'm talking."

"Wait a second. Shut up." Alex's feathers ruffled at Sam's tone, but she fell silent as the Winchester tugged the demon's shirt collar to the side. "Look."

A hole punctured the demon's chest, the flesh half-closed over the wound, and Alex's tight frown fell away at the sight. "Well, would you look at that," Dean crowed, his voice smug, and the demon's eyes widened.

"There's no way his suit survived that wound." Unmasked disappointment filled Sam's voice as he stepped away, and Dean moved forward to fill the empty space.

"Crap —" The demon's face lit up with a bright orange light as the demon knife plunged into his stomach. He slumped forward as Dean moved away, and Alex circled around the body to sit back down at the table with a shake of her head.

Dean tossed the bloodied knife onto the tabletop next to her and started undoing the corpse's bonds, but Sam reached forward to stop him. "Hold up." He reached into the demon's jacket, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he searched, and Alex watched as he pulled out a small silver phone.

"Good?" When Sam nodded, Dean hoisted the body over his shoulder. "I'll take this out. You see what you can get anything useful about where Crowley might be hiding out, huh?"

Sam nodded, swinging the other chair around so he could sit down at the table next to Alex, and the angel leaned back in her seat to watch Dean cross the room. "You need any help?" she offered.

"Nah. I'll be back in a few." With a quick peek out the door, Dean slipped out into the deserted parking lot, and Alex rolled her eyes as the door closed behind him.

She slid her chair closer to Sam, fanning her wings out. Sam loosened the tie around his neck, and with a sympathetic frown, Alex explained, "Air conditioner's broke. Might want to get out of that suit."

"Good call." Chair legs scraped against the linoleum floor as Sam rose to his feet, and Alex tugged on the color of her dark tank top as she opened up her laptop. Her grace reached down to curiously pluck at her deal, but she stopped herself before it could tug too hard; the last thing she needed was for Crowley to catch wind that she and the Winchesters were in town and on his trail. With a sigh, she settled further down in her seat. It looked like they would have to find the King of Hell the old-fashioned way.

...

 **T** he motel door swung shut with a bang, and Alex glanced up to see Dean shed his jacket with a muttered curse. "Fucking hot," she heard him add under his breath, and Alex's lips quirked up into a smile. "Hey," she greeted. "Where'd you ditch the body?"

"School playground." Dean grinned as he spoke, tossing his tie onto the closest bed as he crossed over to stand beside his brother. Sam met his joke with a tight-lipped frown, and he corrected, "Hospital parking lot. What do you got?"

"Well, uh, good news, I was able to hack into his phone." Sam motioned down to the mobile device that lay beside his laptop. A thin wire connected the two, and the phone's screen was displayed across the computer. "Got the coordinates of his call history." He pushed himself to his feet, pointing over his shoulder towards the large city map that had been hanging on the wall for days; three new pins sat in it, each beside a cluster of other pins. "I guess Crowley must have had him tailing Amara or something, because he was at all three spots. He was at Lizzie Borden's house, where Len lost his soul, he was at the bar where Sydney got her soul taken, and he was here, where Goldie said Amara approached her."

"Hmm." Dean approached the map, tapping his chin as he took in the information. "So, somewhere in there." He pointed towards the center of the map, and Sam nodded.

"Yeah, maybe. But what I don't get is, why would Crowley have Amara on earth in the first place? Wouldn't it be smarter to — to keep her in hell?"

"Yeah, but then he'd have to spend more time there, and he hates the place," Dean reminded, and Alex snorted; the Winchester couldn't be closer to the truth.

"Oh, right." Sam scoffed, unnerved by Dean's insight. "I keep forgetting about you and Crowley's summer of love."

Dean ignored the quip, his eyes focused on the map in front of him. "I'm not seeing much inside this radius that he'd like better. I mean, you got farms, you got swamps."

He pointed to each in turn, and Alex pushed herself to her feet with a sigh, crossing the room to join Dean by the far wall. "Yeah," she agreed, "I think he'd prefer hell over living in a swamp." She slipped under Dean's outstretched arm, jamming her finger onto a small box just outside the triangle of pins. "What's this?" she asked. "It looks too big to be a house."

"Oh, uh, let's find out." Sam dropped back down into his chair at the table, and Alex turned at the sound of clicking keys. "The Needham Asylum," he announced after a second. "Decommissioned in '63. Sound like Crowley's kind of place to you?"

"An abandoned mental hospital?" Alex cocked an eyebrow as she looked up at Dean. "Yeah, that sounds right up his alley." She dropped down onto the bed, her wings stretching out across the sheets as the broken air conditioner groaned in pain. "How far away is it?"

"Half hour." Worry creased Sam's face, and he glanced over at his brother. "So … we're really gonna do this … now?"

"Hell yeah." Dean unbuttoned his white shirt and tossed it onto the other bed, scratching his bare shoulder before he crossed the room in search of a new shirt. "I've been looking for a chance to get back at Crowley ever since that shit he pulled in Cedar Rapids —" A quick glance at Alex accompanied his words, and the angel kept her gaze on the ground, "— especially now that I know he tricked me and made off with the Darkness."

"No, that's not what I meant." Sam rubbed the palm of his hands on his thighs, unable to hide his nervousness. "We're going in to kill Amara. Are you ready for that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because we don't know the first thing about her, Dean. We don't know her powers. We don't even know how to take her down."

"She eats souls for breakfast," Alex hesitantly added, and Sam gave a nod. "And she's growing at a — at an insane rate. We don't know what kills her — we don't even know if she _can_ be killed."

Dean hesitated, faced with their skepticism, but he pursed his lips in determination. "I know," he agreed, "but she's too big of a threat of wait. I say we go in there and hit her with everything we got."

Sam rose to his feet, and Alex watched as he disappeared into the bathroom with a shake of his head. Alex glanced over at Dean in time to see worry darkening the hunter's green gaze, and after a second she started sourly, "I'm assuming you want me to stay here while you and Sam go in after Amara."

"Huh?" Dean blinked, surprised by the question. "Why —" He cut off with an understanding frown. "You think Crowley'll use you —"

"I _know_ he'll use me," Alex corrected. "I'm the best backup plan against you two that he's ever had."

"She's right." Sam spoke up from the bathroom door, and Alex glanced over her shoulder towards him. "Crowley's going to do anything he can to stop us. Plus, we want to save those demon's meatsuits, not kill them." Alex rolled her eyes at the comment, turning her head away so Sam couldn't see.

She was saved from responding, however, by the ringing of her phone, and the angel leaned across the bed to pick it up. Crowley's name flashed across the screen, and Alex bolted upwards, her face flushing in surprise. "Be right back," she muttered, and she hurried across the room and out into the parking lot. "H-Hello?" She cleared her throat, forcing the hesitation out of her tone as she stepped down onto the black pavement. "What do you want?"

"Nice to hear your voice again, too." Crowley's languid voice crackled across the line, and Alex stifled a huff of annoyance. "Where are you at, kitten?"

"Massachusetts." Alex spoke through pursed lips, displeased at the question. "What do you want, Crowley?"

The line was silent, and Alex rubbed her shoulders, eyes squinted as she glanced up at the hot afternoon sun. "I want you to come to Needham Asylum," Crowley finally said. "I need your … expertise, and I'm sure it won't be long until Tweedle dee and Tweedle dum come blundering through the doors. Do you need directions?"

"I can find my way." The angel's wings flicked as she hissed out the words, and she hung up before Crowley had a chance to say anything else. She shoved her phone into her pocket as she pushed her way back into the motel room, huffing out her frustration as she slammed the door shut behind her. "Crowley knows we're here," she announced sourly. "I have to go." She grabbed her bag off from the floor and dug out a grey plaid shirt, shrugging it on over her tank top as her feathers ruffled. "Give me a head start before you head over, and don't tell me when you're leaving. The less I know, the better."

The shock on Dean's face quickly hardened into firm determination, but Sam's eyes glinted in worry. "You mean he …" he started, and Alex nodded.

"He wants me down at the asylum, yeah. I'll see what I can think of as a work around, because trust me, I still want this Darkness thing dead." She smoothed down the front of her jeans with a shake of her head, and she crossed back over to the motel door. "I'll hijack a car from that auto shop down the street. See you there."

...

 **T** he white Oldsmobile pulled up in front of the Needham asylum, and Alex slammed the door shut behind her, her wings flicking in disgust against the chipped paint. Sulfur hung in the air, and with a roll of her eyes, the angel pushed her way through the heavy iron gates. Her angel blade sat snugly against her hip, her grace sharply aware of the warm metal that was bonded to it.

Her feet carried her up the worn concrete steps, and her eyes turned to the sides of the building that were overgrown with ivy. The front door was locked with a padlock, and Alex scoffed at the minimal security. No guards on the outside, a bike lock on the door. "Pathetic." The lock snapped open, no match for her grace, and Alex pushed her way into the dark, musty building.

The scent of sulfur intensified as she walked down the hall, and Alex couldn't help but cock an eyebrow at the antiquated decor lit by candlelight from iron chandeliers. Not what she had been expecting.

Footsteps sounded from around the corner, and Alex rolled her shoulders, pinning her wings up tightly against her back as she stepped forward to meet the individual ahead of her. Black eyes flashed in surprise, and the angel lifted her chin. "Don't worry, I'm supposed to be here," she promised. "Where's Crowley?"

"He — I —" The demon stuttered slightly, taken aback by her presence, and he took a moment to steady himself before he said, "This way."

He scuttled off down the hall, and Alex followed at a confident stroll, her hands shoved deep into her jean pockets. An arched doorway stood before them, the room beyond hidden behind two wooden doors, and they swung open under the demon's touch.

An ornate throne sat at the far end, the ironwork catching in the flickering candlelight, and Alex's wings flicked as the heavy doors swung shut behind her. "My king." The demon beside her dropped into a low bow before the throne, his eyes focused reverently on the ground. "I found her in the front hallway —"

The demon fell silent when Crowley flicked his hand, and Alex turned her gaze away from the large room to finally rest on the King of Hell. He was seated on his throne, his legs crossed casually as he reclined against the armrest, but his relaxed stature was broken by the sharpness in his darkened eyes. "I'm impressed." Alex spoke before he could, her broken feathers twitching. "You've really brought the homey feel of hell here."

"Save the flattery." Crowley rose to his feet, and Alex stepped back. His voice held none of its usual smugness, and the room emptied with a wave of his hand, leaving him and Alex alone. "Do you know why you're here?"

"I'm guessing it has something to do with Amara." Alex purposefully chose to keep her grace tightly coiled within her as she spoke, but she couldn't help but peer around the room in search of the teenager. "I never took you for the parenting type." Her eyes landed on a book that lay half-tucked behind the throne, and she tipped her head to read the title. _Understanding Your Rebellious Teen_. "Everything going okay?"

"She's a menace." Crowley spat out the words before he could rein in his temper, and Alex blinked in surprise. "She eats my demons, and then when I tell her to stop, she sneaks out to steal souls? How did you keep your child under control?"

"Ashiel was a baby," Alex reminded flatly. "He played with blocks."

"I tried to talk to her." Crowley continued on as if she hadn't spoken. "But she knows she's going to be more powerful than I could ever be. I all but _begged_ her to slow down, to give me time to figure out what to do. Me." He spat out the word. "I rose through the ranks of Hell, defeated all comers, to claim the throne. I helped put _Lucifer_ back in his cage, and here I am negotiating with a teenage girl!"

"Okay … and what the hell do you want from me?" Alex retorted. "Am I actually supposed to do something here, or did you just need to rant?" She heard scuffling on the other side of the door, and she turned her head as her grace flicked out before it recoiled in disgust. Demons. "Even for you, Crowley, this is stupid. You should have just killed her when you got the chance."

"Kill her?" Crowley scoffed. "You haven't met her recently, have you? There's no killing her. Not now, now ever. It's been hard enough keeping her in her room!" Realizing he was shouting, he cleared his throat, taking a moment to calm himself before he spoke again. "She's no longer recognizing my authority, and it's one small step from teenage rebellion to full-fledged mutiny. I want you to protect me." His brown eyes flickered, the only sign of his displeasure at the admittance. "I'm assuming the Winchesters aren't far behind you."

"I didn't tell them to follow me," Alex promised, choosing her words carefully. She could feel the deal tugging at her grace, compelling her towards the truth, and she grit her teeth as she added, "They'll figure it out on their own soon enough. I'd expect them here by nightfall."

"Good." Crowley gave a quick, curt nod. "Now, I have a meeting in five minutes, and then I'll introduce you to our guest." He returned to his throne, and the doors swung open with a flick of his hand. "Make yourself comfortable, kitten. We'll be here a while."

...

 **T** he low drone of a monotone voice filled the throne room, the words jumbling together. Alex stood behind the throne, her arms crossed as she stared blankly ahead. The room was chilly despite the heat of the summer day, and the angel momentarily contemplated rolling down the sleeves of her shirt which was meticulously rolled up just below her elbows. "Turn to the graph on the bottom of page twenty-seven, and you'll see a nearly 40% decrease in soul collections …" The dark-skinned demon's voice faded in and out of Alex's mind, and her gaze dropped down to the pages in Crowley's lap. The King of Hell's attention was on the parenting book hidden behind the report; if the other demon was aware that he had lost his audience's attention, he didn't show it. "An unexpected consequence of legalized marijuana? Some analysts think so. We …" He trailed off when Alex shifted her weight with a barely stifled groan at the stiffness in her legs.

Silence ensued, and eventually Crowley lifted his eyes from his reading. "We …?" he repeated. "Cat got your tongue?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but … are you sure we should be discussing this in front of … her?" The demon's eyes flickered over to Alex, and the angel lifted her chin as she met his gaze.

Crowley folded his book and tucked it into his lap, pressing his fingertips together as he pursed his lips. "She's harmless," he promised, and Alex scoffed under her breath. "Completely under my control. Alex." He raised one hand, fingers poised together in a snap. "Hop for me, won't you?"

Alex squared her jaw, but she reluctantly lifted her foot. Her wings lifted slightly to balance herself as she hopped in place, the action as minuscule as she could make it to save herself of the embarrassment best that she could.

The task seemed to please the King, because he waved his hand as a signal for her to stop. "Now come here." He pointed to the edge of the concrete slab upon which his throne sat, and Alex took a step forward to stand with her toes up against the drop off. "Sit."

Alex's teeth clenched with an audible _crack_ , but she dropped down to sit on the edge, resting her elbows on her knees as she stared up at the other demon through cold, daring eyes. He cleared his throat, unnerved by the angel's glare, a look that was broken only when Crowley reached out to put his hand upon Alex's head. "Now. You were saying?"

"We've been looking at the numbers over the past eighty years …" The demon started up again, and Alex zoned out, playing with the fringe of threads that surrounded a small hole in her jeans. Crowley's hand pulled away from her hair, the display of control passed, and the angel couldn't help but roll her eyes. If that was as far as Crowley's taunting would reach, then she could handle it.

The room had fallen silent, and the angel shook herself out of her thoughts to see that the demon had finished. "Finally." She ran her palms across her jeans as she pushed herself to her feet, shaking out her wings as the demon left the room. "That was … thrilling."

"The life of a king." Crowley rose from his seat, his displeasure clear. "Come. It's time that you meet Amara." He lead the way out of the throne room and into the hallway, and Alex followed close at his heels. A glance towards the nearest window showed that the sun was starting to set; if the Winchesters were coming tonight, they would be here soon.

They wound their way down the stone halls, the yellow light casting flickering shadows onto the bricks. Every so often a demon materialized from around a corner, hurrying past with a mumbled greeting to Crowley and a wary glance towards the angel at his side. Their appearance became more and more frequent until Crowley stopped beside another arched door. A demon stood there, a lace-fringed apron tied around his waist, and he dropped into a low bow as he stepped aside.

The door swung open under Crowley's touch to reveal a large, grandiose stone bedroom. Alex stepped over the threshold, eyes flickering across the walls as she took everything in. A brown-haired teenage girl sat on the pink bed, her hands in her lap, and Alex's steps faltered under her intense stare. "You must be Amara." Alex dipped her head towards the girl, forcing her wings to lay lax against her back. "I'm Alex."

"I know." Amara rose to her feet, a gentle curiosity dancing in her eyes. "We've met before, when I was younger."

"Yeah. You've grown quite a bit." Alex lifted her chin as the Darkness came to stop in front of her. "I've heard you've been eating well."

"I've never seen an angel before." Amara ignored the comment, her eyes drifting across Alex's wings before they turned up to Crowley. "Is she for me?"

"Sorry, darling, but no." Crowley stepped up to Alex's side, and the doors swung closed behind him. "She's not for consumption. She works for me. Why don't you go take a seat over by the desk?" he suggested to Alex, and the angel gave a quick nod before she complied. Her grace bristled in displeasure as she brushed past Amara, and she tried to keep her stomach from twisting at the cold air that surrounded the teen.

 _Alex?_ Castiel's voice rang through her head as she took a seat in a wooden chair, and Alex let out a soft breath, thankful for her mate's distraction. _Is everything okay? I felt something weird._

 _That was Amara. The Darkness,_ Alex quickly expounded. _Crowley's been keeping her in Massachusetts, and I'm there now._ She watched as Crowley dipped his head, his voice low as he spoke to Amara, but she didn't bother to eavesdrop. Castiel's grace rose up within her, peering through her eyes, and she let him take a peek before she dropped her gaze. _Trust me, I'm being careful._

Castiel's displeasure sparked through her stomach, but he merely sighed. _And Sam and Dean?_

 _On their way, I'm sure. They want to kill Amara._ Alex suddenly cut off the prayer when Amara crossed the room to stand in front of her, and the angel pushed herself to her feet before the teen could tower over her. "Yes?"

"You're an angel." Amara's head tipped as she looked into Alex's eyes. "Have you met God? Do you know what he's like?"

"No." Alex barely stopped herself from scoffing. "I've never met God. Most angels haven't." She glanced over at Crowley's placid face before she added, "And I'm not even a true angel. I'm _Enaaish_. I was born human —" She cut off in surprise when Amara put her hand on her chest, and her grace jerked as Amara reached inwards, her cold energy twisting against her organs. Her eyes snapped over to Crowley, wide with shock, but the demon merely shrugged from where he sat.

Amara pulled back a second later, and Alex's shoulders sagged in relief as she shifted backwards. "I'd like to sit there," Amara announced, motioning towards the desk, and Alex quickly stepped aside to let the teenager through.

Footsteps sounded from outside the door, and Alex hurried over to stand beside the bed, eager to put as much distance between her and the Darkness as physically possible. Amara didn't seem to notice, her attention already on filing her nails, and Alex shook out her wings with a faint, rapid rustle. Crowley's eyes turned onto her, a silent question upon his face, and Alex nodded: yes, the Winchesters were here.

The door swung open after half a minute of silence, and Alex watched as Dean stepped through the door. Amara rose to her feet, immediately drawing Dean's attention onto her. "I knew you'd come."

She crossed the room fearlessly to stand in front of him, and Dean's fingers tightened around the handle of the demon knife. "I'm sorry, Amara," he began, his voice quiet, and the teenager tipped her head.

"For what?" she asked.

"For what I have to do." Dean's voice was tight as he looked down at the Darkness, his grip on the knife knuckle-white, and he didn't hear Crowley rise to his feet.

"Hello, Dean." Crowley stepped forward as Dean whipped around in surprise, and a flick of his hand had the Winchester flying across the room. He crashed into the standing mirror, and Alex grimaced as the glass shattered, leaving Dean to land in the midst of the shards. "My girl's growing up." Crowley sauntered forward as Dean pushed himself to his feet, hissing as the glace cut at his palms. "Should've known it wouldn't be long before the boys came sniffing around."

He easily lifted Dean up off of the ground and pinned him against a stone pillar. Dean grunted at the impact, his bloodied hands grasping at empty air. "What do you want with her, Crowley?" he snapped. "What, you think can use her, control her? You're an idiot!"

"I'm not trying to control her." Crowley nodded down towards the glass shards, and Alex slipped forward to retrieve the demon knife from the ground. "I'm helping her realize her fullest potential." He dropped Dean onto his feet and stepped back, hand outstretched, and Alex placed the knife into his hands before she circled around to Dean, reaching out to take his bloodied hands in hers. Her grace snaked out to heal the wounds before a sharp click of Crowley's tongue had her stepping back to the King's side.

"You —" Dean started, but Crowley cut him off.

"Do you know how disturbing it was to realize that I couldn't bring myself to kill you?" he mused, running his finger along the serrated edge of the carved knife. "I've had tons of chances over the years, some you don't even know about, but still … I made my peace with it, embraced my softer side, learned to accept that there was just too much going on between you and I — bromance," he expounded, and Dean's eyes widened in surprise. "But you know what?" Crowley pointed the knife at Dean's chest. "I think I _am_ gonna kill you today. And I'm not going to even have Alex do it. It's going to be all me." He stepped closer, and the blade pushed up against Dean's chest, the tip catching on the fabric of his jacket. "I feel different somehow. Ready. What can I say? Fatherhood changes a man."

Alex's wings rose, her fists clenched at her side, but her deal held her back, a rush of ice that rooted her to the spot. The feeling lasted only a second before her head snapped to the side. Amara was behind Crowley, a vase lifted over her head, and Alex threw her hand out, her grace billowing out and knocking the Darkness away.

The vase shattered against the floor, and Alex whipped around to face the teen, but a flurry of coldness swept her off her feet before she had time to think. She crashed into the wall with a thud, the air knocked from her lungs. Crowley cried out, an unmistakable shout of pain, and the demon knife clattered to the floor at his feet.

Alex pushed herself to her feet, but she was met with an invisible wall, unyielding no matter how hard her grace pressed. Crowley was pinned up against the bricks, his right hand twisted at an unnatural angle, but his face held nothing but anger and confusion. "I thought we had an understanding," he forced out, and Alex threw herself against the barricade between her and the others.

"Yeah. Your promise to protect me." Amara's eyes swept over to Dean, who hadn't moved from the pillar, his eyes wide as he watched. "And then, hours later, I'm assaulted in my own room."

"Well, you don't seem terribly upset by it," Crowley retorted breathlessly. Alex felt Castiel's grace swell inside of her, stronger than ever before, and with one last effort, she threw herself against the wall, her grace spilling out and twisting through the cracks. It shattered, and she stumbled forward with a gasp of surprise.

Amara watched her go, unperturbed by the angel's freedom. "I've decided I don't need your protection," she announced, "and I certainly don't need your captivity." Her hand raised, her fist slowly tightening, and Crowley gasped in pain.

"Amara. Stop it." Alex drew her weapon as she stepped forward, and the teen's attention turned away from the King of Hell. "You want out, you walk through that door." She pointed towards the door with the tip of her weapon before it swung back onto Crowley. "But I can't let you hurt him."

"You're an angel." Amara turned to her with a thin frown. "Why are you protecting him?"

"Because it's my job." Alex's grace snuck out to try and sever the tendril of power that bound the King of Hell, but it held fast. "And trust me, I don't like it any more than you do."

"He tried to kill Dean," Amara insisted, and Crowley grunted in pain.

Alex huffed. "Empty threats. Everyone's tried to kill Dean." She watched as Amara's eyes swung over to the Winchester, and she took the teen's moment of distraction to wrap her grace around Crowley and tear him loose of the Darkness' grasp. Crowley fell to the ground, gasping for air, and Alex slipped forward to position herself between him and Amara.

Coldness enveloped her, and Alex's grace fought back, fending off the icy fingers that probed at her skin, searching for weakness. "I want you to leave." Amara's shoulders rolled back as she straightened up, and Alex flicked her wings towards Crowley, urging him to his feet. "Get out of my room."

Crowley took the moment to brush off his suit before he started towards the door, and Alex followed, keeping herself between the Darkness and the King of Hell. She hesitated at the door, grey eyes flickering onto Dean; a quick nod from him and a tug on her sleeve from Crowley made her decision clear, and Alex stepped out of the room and let the door swing shut behind her.

It was only then that she gave in to her shaking legs, slumping up against the wall and sliding down onto the floor. Her grace trembled as it retracted into her body, and Alex's eyes fell onto her arms; she could have sworn there should be bruises from how hard the tendrils had dug into her skin. Her head fell back against the wall, her eyes closing in exhaustion. "Fuck you." She tilted her head in Crowley's direction, and she opened her eyes as she spoke again. " _That_ was all your fault."

Crowley didn't acknowledge her, his attention fully focused on his broken arm. He twisted it back into place, grunting at the pain of bone sliding against bone. "I told you she was out of control," was all he said, and then he was gone.

Alex blinked, surprised by his sudden disappearance, but it lasted only a moment as Sam rounded the corner, his feet slipping slightly on the stone as he took in the sight of her. "Alex?" He was at her side in an instant, dropping down onto his knee. "Are you okay? Where's Dean?"

"In there." Alex grabbed onto his arm, trying to push herself to her feet, and Sam pulled her up, holding her steady until the angel had managed to get her feet underneath her. "They're in there. Amara —"

Sam didn't wait to hear the rest of her sentence before he pushed himself through the door, and Alex cut off with a scowl. A shout of surprise followed his entrance, followed by a crash as the Winchester hit the ground, and Alex reached out to steady herself on the wall, her wings flicking nervously as she contemplated rushing back in there.

The answer to her decision came when the door swung back open, and Amara stepped out into the hall, her bare feet silent on the stone floor. The teenager paused, and brown eyes met grey. Alex forced herself to stand straight, her broken, weathered wings flaring up as her grace flashed in her eyes, but the Darkness remained calm in the face of the threat. "I'll see you again soon," she promised softly, and she smoothed down the hem of her pale dress. "Take care of Dean." She stepped forward, and Alex's back hit the wall as the Darkness walked away.

...

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **T** he Impala pulled up into the bunker's garage, and the engine died with a graceful purr. Alex lifted her head from the leather seats, eyes cracking open to take in the familiar stone walls. "Already?" She leaned forward to tap Sam on the shoulders, and he jerked awake with a spluttered curse. "We're back." She stepped out onto the concrete floor, her wings stretching up as she circled around to the trunk to grab her things.

Dean was already there, her bag in his hands, and Alex accepted it with a grunt of thanks. Her grace slipped out to find her mate, surprised to find him seated below them in the war room. He stirred at the feeling, and Alex's attention flickered to the back of her mind in time to watch him close a book he had been reading. "Cas is up," she announced, and she started towards the staircase, adjusting the strap of her bag across her shoulder. She felt Sam and Dean follow more slowly; despite her insistence, both brothers had refused to let her take away the bruising, and both were undoubtedly sore after the long car ride.

Alex's own muscles ached, her grace weak with exhaustion, and she grimaced at the stiffness in her legs as she descended the stairs. "Cas?" She called out her mate's name as she made her way down the hall, dropping her bag off near her bedroom door before she continued on towards the library. "We're back."

Chair legs dragged against the concrete floor as Castiel rose to his feet, and his wings hesitantly extended towards her. Alex reached out with her own wings, brushing the tips against his broken feathers. "How was your drive?" Castiel's voice deepened slightly as Sam and Dean stepped into view, and he frowned. "Are you okay?" His blue eyes turned down onto Alex. "What happened with Amara?"

"I'm surprised you didn't watch the whole thing." Alex sat down on the concrete pillar that lined the stairs to the library, spreading her wings out as she leaned up against the wall. "It was, uh … I think chaotic is the best way to describe it?"

"I … I couldn't bring myself to watch." Castiel's eyes dropped down onto the ground in embarrassment. "I felt you draw on my grace, though. Did you kill her?"

"No." It was Dean who answered, scowling discouragingly. "I don't even think she walked away with a scratch." He tossed his bag onto the floor with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, how the hell did that happen?" Sam joined Dean at the table, and his chair creaked under his weight as he leaned up against it. "You were right there with the knife. Did you even try?"

Dean's head recoiled, shocked at the insinuation. "Of course I tried," he snapped, and his green eyes flickered over to Alex, gauging her reaction. "She fucking overpowered me. End of story. What we really need is Metatron to tell us who the hell she is." He dropped down into his seat with a pointed glare in Castiel's direction, and Alex jumped to his rescue to deflect the verbal blow.

"Yeah," she agreed before Castiel could respond. "That's a good idea. Why don't we focus our attention on finding him first, and let's just forget about chasing Amara down for now. She's too powerful for any of us to do anything on our own." That said, she turned to look up at her mate, adding in a softer tone, "Have you heard anything about Metatron?"

"No." Castiel's gaze dropped down to his shoes, disappointment thick in his tone. "Not yet. But he's bound to turn up soon."

The room fell silent, and eventually Sam let out a hollow sigh. "I'll go look into the lore. Maybe … maybe we missed something." He brushed past Alex, and once he was gone, Alex reached out to put a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "Come on." She brushed her wings across his back, urging him to follow as she started towards the hallway. "I'll tell you about the case."

Castiel slowly trailed after her, leaving Dean seated alone in the war room. They walked in silence until they reached the bedroom door, and Alex kicked it open as she scooped her bag up off of the floor. "I'm sorry I couldn't help," Castiel started, but he cut off when Alex shook her head.

She tossed her bag into the corner of the room and dropped down onto the mattress, leaning forward on her elbows so she could look into his eyes. "Come here." She straightened up and patted the bed beside her. "You wanna talk about what's going on?"

The mattress dipped as Castiel sat at her side, and Alex shifted her wings back to make room. "What do you mean?"

"It's been months, Cas." Alex drew one leg up underneath her so she could face her mate more fully. "Have you even _tried_ to leave the bunker?"

Castiel's gaze dropped onto the ground, and he sat silently, only prompted to speak when Alex reached out to put a hand on his knee. "I tried," he admitted, his voice no more than a whisper. "I couldn't … I couldn't make it past the door."

 _Just be there for him_. Sam's words echoed through her head, and Alex sighed, pulling her hand away from his knee to instead lean up against his shoulder, pressing in just enough to offer comfort. "Well, I'm here if you need me," she promised. "If you need to talk about it, to — to get it off your chest, I'm here to listen. We can figure this out."

Once again, silence followed her words, and as it lengthened, Alex sighed. "Listen," she started again, "I know it's not easy … being forced to do something that you don't want to. I can feel my deal getting stronger as my grace recovers. I can … I can _feel_ it pushing me to do things that I know I don't want to do." She reached over to grab Castiel's hands, running her thumb across his knuckles. "That spell had a hell of a grip on you, and the things that it did, they weren't your fault. And I know that they're things you're not going to do again." She pressed her grace up against his, searching for some sign that she was getting through. "I don't know if that's what you're afraid of, but it's not going to happen. I … I won't let it."

Castiel looked down at their entwined hands, and Alex's shoulders fell as he slowly pulled away. "Thank you." He pushed himself to his feet, his wings pinned tightly against his body. "I … I should get back to looking for Metatron. Dean will want help." He walked away, leaving Alex sitting alone on her bed as he closed the door behind him.

...

* * *

 **Next chapter is an original, and from there we move into some of my favorites of the season!**


	28. An Eye for an Eye (And We All Go Blind)

**October 14th, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **T** he basketball arched through the air, passing through the net with a faint _swish_. It hit the ground with a resounding thud, and Alex's grace snaked out to knock the ball towards her awaiting hands. Her sneakers squeaked against the wooden floor as she took a step back, lining her toes up against the white line. Her eyes lifted towards the basket, and her muscles moved automatically, wrist flicking as she released the ball. _Swish._

"Nice shot." Sam's voice came from the doorway, and Alex's grace rolled the ball back towards her as she turned to face him.

"Thanks." She stopped the basketball with her foot. "I could do this in my sleep by now. I've been up here for literal hours." She pulled a quick, displeased face before adding, "Cas has been in my room all day."

"That's because I had to kick him out of mine." Sam stepped into the gym, and Alex crossed the floor to meet him halfway. "I don't think he wanted to leave until I told him I had to sleep. He was halfway through the Speed sequel."

"Great, which means he's scraping the bottom of the barrel as far as movies go." Alex shook her head. "I — I tried getting him to open up, Sam, but it's like he doesn't even what to talk to me. I don't know what to do with him. I can't be around him when he's all … wilted like that. I've never seen him this bad."

Sam's shoulders deflated at the news, and his hazel eyes darkened slightly as he thought. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "There's nothing we can do except give him more time."

"It's been almost two _months_. We could drag him outside ourselves," Alex muttered, but she immediately dismissed the idea with a roll of her eyes. "What's up? You looking for me?"

"Yeah, actually." Sam's voice lightened at the change in topic. "So I think I've found us a case. It's out in Nebraska if you're interested." With a glance over his shoulder, he lowered his voice, adding, "I figured you could use the time away. You've been kind of …"

"Grumpy?" Alex finished, and Sam shrugged. "You're not wrong. I mean, can you blame me?" She chuckled half-heartedly, but the humor quickly died away. "Well, you know me. I'm always up for a hunt." Alex crossed over to the wall as she spoke, stooping down to pull on her sweatshirt. Her wings pressed up against her body as she did so, twitching as the ethereal feathers passed through the thick grey material. "When are we leaving? Have you told Dean yet?"

"Dean's not coming. He wants to keep looking for Metatron and Amara. He's back downstairs digging through the lore some more." Sam shrugged, and at the sight of Alex's frown, added, "I know, I know. We've been through it a hundred times, but he's dead set on it until he finds a lead. So it looks like it's just going to be the two of us. You think Cas …?"

"He won't."Alex brushed past Sam with a flick of her wing. "I can ask him, but he'll want to stay."

"Well, ask him. I'll meet you up by your car when you're ready." Sam disappeared off down the hall, and with a shrug, Alex descended the stairs. She felt out along her grace, unsurprised to find Castiel still in her room.

The interior of the bedroom was dark, and Alex reached over to flick on the lights. "Hey," she greeted, and she extended a wing towards her mate. "How are you feeling?"

The seraph was sitting reclined on her bed, his wings drawn in tightly around him. His eyes turned up from Dean's old laptop as she spoke, and Alex closed the door behind her. "Hello," he answered, and Alex flicked her grace out to pause his show. "I'm feeling okay. I was thinking about going outside today."

The lie in his promise was tangible, but Alex brushed it off with a shrug of her shoulders. "That sounds like a really good idea," she agreed, and the bed dipped as she sat down at his side. "Sam's found a case, and you … you're welcome to come with. You know, to get back on that horse." She brushed her fingers across his feathers, and the bare vanes twitched. "It's not a great idea to stay hidden away like this."

Castiel was silent, his eyes landing on where her hand was resting against his wings, and Alex felt her grace draw away. "You three should go," he decided. "I'll keep looking for Metatron."

The laptop started playing again, signally the end of the conversation, and Alex frowned. Her grace twitched in frustration but, heeding Sam's words, she pushed it down. "Okay," she relented, and her grace slipped out to pause the show once again. "Well, Dean's staying, too, so if you need anything, talk to him." She leaned forward to press a kiss against his cheek. "Try and get up and do something, okay? Maybe ask Dean to take you to see a movie. Or, uh — I know I'm going to regret saying this, but ask Dean about torrenting. At the very least you could watch some higher caliber films."

She slid off the bed when Castiel didn't respond, and she set about gathering up her bag. A change of clothes was thrown atop her meticulously folded slacks and blouse, and the packing was completed by her laptop, tossed on top of it all. "See you in a few days," she promised, and she once more leaned over to kiss her mate as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "Love you."

...

 **La Vista, Nebraska**

 **"A** gents Smith and Shaw." Sam flashed his badge at the front desk of the La Vista Police Station, and Alex did the same, her back straightened in an attempt not to appear so dwarfed next to the Winchester. The room around them hummed with life as police officers moved about their day, and the angel drew in her wings as a man brushed past her shoulders. The officer that sat at the desk in front of them raised his head, blinking rapidly as he looked the two of them up and down, but he barely took a moment to study their badges before he nodded. "We're looking for Deputy Hodge," Sam continued, and Alex shoved her ID back into her pocket. "Can you point us in the right direction?"

"Deputy's in a meeting right now." The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "You can wait in his office. Third door on the left."

His attention turned back down to the pile of folders on his desk, and Alex shrugged her shoulders as she followed Sam further into the station. "So, you're thinking this was an angel kill, huh?"

"Yeah." Sam pushed his way into the office, and Alex dropped down into the nearest chair. "Uh, I talked with Hodge on the phone, and he said that they ID'ed the body this morning. A Ms. Taylor Yang. Her eyes were burned out of her skull when they found her." Sam circled around the desk, his fingers brushing over the mess of files as he searched for their case. "Here."

A manilla folder landed in her lap, and Alex flipped through the pages to find the crime scene photos. "Yeah, that definitely looks like an angel kill," she reluctantly agreed, and she ran a finger along the side of the folder as she studied the burned, charred eyes. "Sam." She called the hunter over and pointed to the wound in the stomach, the torn flesh neatly cauterized despite the gruesome wound. "They were stabbed, too."

"Maybe an angel blade?" Sam leaned up against the chair next to her, a large hand planted on her shoulder to steady himself.

"It's got to be. The hole's pretty round, and there's no bleeding." Alex glanced up at Sam, eyes dropping back down to the file to find Sam's face close to hers. "This wasn't just a person who was killed. It was either a demon or an angel. A human would have bled, and their eyes don't burn like that when they're stabbed."

"Cas did that to Pamela," Sam reminded, and Alex frowned.

"Yeah, but that's different. And then why bother to stab them? Seems a bit overkill to murder them twice." With a shrug, she closed the file and handed it back to Sam, her grace flicking out into the hall. "The meeting's over. Put this back."

Sam returned the folder to the desk, and the door opened a few seconds later to reveal Deputy Hodge. He was a short, pudgy man, with thickset glasses atop a an equally thick nose, and Alex rose to her feet as he stopped short. "Can … I help you two?"

"Robert Hodge." Sam extended a hand towards the deputy. "I'm Agent Smith. We talked on the phone earlier this morning."

"Oh, oh, right. About the Yang murder." The deputy crossed over to his desk and sat down, his eyes running across the mess. "I have the file here somewhere — ah." He picked up the file Sam had put down, and his lips pursed as he opened it up to the first page. "What can I help you two with?"

"We're just wondering if there's anything new you can tell us." Sam sat down next to Alex, tucking his hands in his lap. "Also, directions to the road where you found her."

"Here." Hodge held out the file to Sam with a shrug. "I have another copy somewhere. You keep it. We talked with Yang's parents out in Colorado. She's been missing for a month. They assumed she'd run off with her long-time boyfriend until about a week ago." The man's chair creaked as he leaned back in it. "There wasn't much on her to indicate where she's been. No phone, no credit cards. No one at any of the hotels in the area recognized her, either."

"Yeah, that's, uh, that's weird," Sam agreed. "Do you have any leads on who killed her?"

"Nothing." Hodge shook his head. "No one's come forward about seeing anything that night, and there's no security cameras anywhere near the ravine where the body was found. I've got the techs working to see if there's some trace evidence, but …" He trailed off with a shrug. "I'd appreciate any help you two can offer."

"Of course." Alex leaned forward. "Is there any chance that we can see the body?"

Deputy Hodge clicked his tongue. "Sorry, Agent Shaw, but coroner's got a tight lynch around visitors. I'll talk to her and see if I can get the two of you in later, though."

"Works for us." With a shrug, Alex pushed herself to her feet. "I suppose if you learn anything else, give us a call. We'll be in town for a few days." She tapped Sam on the shoulder, and he stood as well. "Thanks for your time." She stepped aside, and Sam took the lead out of the office and down the hall.

...

 **A** lex pushed her way into the hotel room, her grace flicking on the lights as she stepped across the threshold. A wooden door to her right led to the bathroom, and beyond it lay a tv and a single bed. "Just one bed, huh?" she joked, and she heard Sam kick the door closed behind him.

"It was cheaper than two beds." Sam pushed past her to place his bag on the mattress, and Alex dropped hers next to the small wooden table. "I mean, you don't need to sleep, anyways."

"I suppose." Alex dropped down in the chair, her wings draped over the back. "I guess there's stuff I can do." Sam tossed the case file onto the table next to her, and Alex flipped it open. "So, crime scene was a bust," she began. "No EMF, no sign of a fight, nothing."

"Yeah." Sam dropped down onto the bed, and the mattress creaked under his weight. "We've hit a wall already." He pulled out his phone, and Alex's eyes dropped down to the folder.

"So, do we just hang tight and hope they strike again?" Sam didn't answer, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip as his eyes flickered to the ground, and Alex flipped the folder shut with a sigh. "Something's up. What's going on, Sam?"

"I had another vision." Sam swung his legs over the bed so he could sit facing her. "I've been praying, but I don't … I don't know what it means."

Alex blinked, her eyes stretched wide as her wings curled forward. However, she managed to keep her voice under control. "What did you see?"

"It's … it's not so much about what I saw as much as how I … felt." Sam's brow furrowed as he spoke, and his fingers drummed nervously on his thigh. "I saw the Cage," he finally said. "I saw … I don't know what I saw, but I thought …" He fell silent, and Alex leaned forward in her chair, patiently waiting for him to collect his thoughts. "I know it was the Cage. From the outside. And I wasn't scared. I felt a … calmness."

"Was that all you saw?" Alex asked as he fell quiet once again. "You didn't, you know … see _him_?"

"No." Sam shook his head, and the angel pushed down the sharp pang of disappointment that flashed through her. "It was just the Cage. What do you think it means? Have _you_ spoken to him?"

Alex scoffed. "I haven't spoken to Lucifer in almost two years," she reminded. "And I didn't … I heard him when the Darkness escaped — I could _swear_ that I heard him, but it was only one word, and I don't know if it was actually him or if it was some sort of … echo." She shook her head, unsure of what she was trying to communicate. "Maybe it's not about Lucifer at all." She moved so she could sit on the bed beside Sam. "He's not the only one in the Cage, remember? Maybe this is about Michael."

"Maybe." Sam sounded less than convinced. "But then why send visions of hell at all? And why to me?"

"Because you're the only one praying about it?" Alex gave a quick, half-hearted shrug. "Because the Darkness already has Dean wedged under her finger, and no one wants to talk to the angel with the devil in her head." Alex spat out the last few words, and her wingtips flicked angrily. "Anyways, it doesn't matter, because we can't even talk to Lucifer without opening the Cage and letting him out."

"But what if that's what the visions means?" Sam leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the blank wall. "What if … what if Lucifer is the solution?"

"Lucifer can't be the solution." Alex almost cut him off too quickly, and she shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "He _can't_ come back. Not when Cas and I are finally …" She trailed off again, and Sam's hand hesitantly came to rest on her knee.

"How … things are still going well between you two, right?" he asked. "I mean, I know Cas isn't doing well —"

"Things are fine, I think." Alex brushed off his concern with a shrug of her shoulders. "We're just hitting a bit of a rough patch between my deal and Cas' … what do you even call it? Avoidance? Depression? Can an angel even get depression?"

"I think Cas is more human than you think." Sam rose up off of the bed, and Alex watched him cross over to the bathroom.

"Well, great timing on his part, because I'm definitely not human anymore." Alex fell back on the bed with a sigh, her wings stretching out across the sheets. "Oh well. I won't bore you with the details. You probably don't care too much about my relationship troubles." She rolled onto her side, her head propped up by her elbow. "Should we talk about Dean?"

"Of course I care." Sam stuck his head out of the bathroom with a frown. "And what do you mean? What about Dean?" He ducked back out of sight, and Alex rolled onto her stomach to try and catch sight of him again. "You seriously think he let the Darkness go?"

"All I'm saying is that I didn't see him try and fight back once. I don't know if he's even aware of it," she added, frowning pensively as she traced the seam of the white comforter, "but he fell off his game the minute he saw her. You think it might be something to do with both of them having the Mark?"

"The Mark was the key to her prison." The lights flicked off, and Sam returned to the main room. "Dean said she sees him as the one who set him free, and that they were bonded or something. I don't know what he meant." He dropped down on the bed, and Alex rolled out of the way, pushing herself to her feet with a glance at the clock. "We can talk about this in the morning, okay? Maybe I can get a good night's sleep without Dean breathing down my neck."

He mumbled the last few words, and Alex dropped down into her chair at the table. "Good idea. I'll … I'm going to go take a walk, and then I'll take another look through the files, see if there's anything we skimmed over." She drummed her fingers on the table before she sighed and rose to her feet. "Night, Sam. I'll see you in the morning."

...

 **T** he red and blue flashing lights caught on the side of the Marquis as Alex threw open the door. The air was damp, a remnant of that afternoon's storm, and she shook out her wings as raindrops dribbled off of the trees and down the back of her neck. "It's about time we got another body," she muttered in Sam's direction, ducking beneath the yellow police tape. "I was ready to throw in the towel." She paused on the other side, waiting for Sam to join her before she added, "Hodge said he'd be here, right? I don't see him."

"Maybe he's further down the path." Sam started into the woods with a shrug, leaving Alex to follow. Foliage dripped around her, and the dirt trail squished with each step. The sirens faded away as they descended the muddy hill, and Alex's wings cocked forward slightly at the sound of voices through the trees. "Deputy Hodge." Sam lifted his voice to announce their presence, and the small congregation of officers came into view as they stepped around a bend in the trail. "Thanks for inviting us."

"Not a problem, agents." Hodge was squatted next to a sheet-covered body, and he rose to his feet to greet them. "I'm not going to lie, this one has us as stumped as the first one." He slipped past two men to come stand in front of them, adjusting his hat as he glanced up at the drizzling sky. "A pair of hikers stumbled upon our latest homicide about an hour back. The body's drenched but the ground under him is dry, so it's probably been out here since last night."

"And you said it was the same MO as with Yang?" Sam asked, and Alex moved past him to study the body.

"Exactly the same," she heard Hodge confirm as she crouched down near the head. Her wings flicked as a fat raindrop landed on her outstretched hand, and, with an upwards frown towards the grey sky, she pulled back the sheet to reveal the corpse. The eyes were burned from the skull, leaving only charred flesh in its wake, and a puncture wound rested just below the sternum, the flesh black and cauterized. "The rain washed away a lot. Footprints are gone, there's no blood. "

"No signs of a struggle," Alex added. "You think this is just a dumping ground?"

Hodge nodded. "Just like the last one." He followed Sam over to Alex, and the angel held the sheet back so they could see. "Either you ever seen something like this before?"

"Never quite like this," Alex lied, and she dropped her eyes back onto the corpse with a grim shake of her head. She hesitated, and her nostrils flared as she drew in a deep breath. Rain had washed the dust from the air, but something still lingered, clinging to the damp clothes. Sulfur.

The angel let the sheet fall back across the corpse, and her eyes turned onto the array of small plastic bags that lay next to the victim. She recognized a set of keys and a wallet, but a small cloth ball caught her eye. "Was there anything on him?" she heard Sam ask as she reached for the evidence bag. "Do we know who he is?"

"We got a name and ID from his wallet. A Daniel Mayes from Greenwich, Connecticut. I already called the local PD," Hodge added, and Alex tipped her head as his tone dropped lower. "They say Daniel Mayes has been missing since 2011." He shook his head, confusion darkening his pale eyes. "We're sending over a photo for confirmation, but …"

"Smith." Alex waved Sam over, and the hunter quickly excused himself to go stand by her side. "This man was a demon," she murmured, loud enough for only him to hear. "The rain washed most of it away, but I can still pick up a smell of sulfur on him. Not _around_ , but on. He, uh, he had this on him." She handed over the small burlap ball, and Sam's jaw tightened.

"Hex bag. So we're looking for a witch. One that's killing demons." Sam frowned pensively, eyes focused on the corpse at his feet. "I guess possession would explain why this guy's been missing for so many years."

"Yeah. But a witch doesn't explain the deaths. That's classic angel blade. Maybe they managed to get their hands on one," she begrudgingly added after a moment.

Sam shoved his hands into his pockets as his phone started to ring, and Alex watched as he glanced down at the screen. "It's Dean," he announced, and Alex grunted in understanding as he moved away to speak to his brother.

She crouched back down next to the body, head tipping as she once again pulled back the sheet to study the empty face. "It's sad, isn't it?" she heard Hodge begin. Alex glanced up, eyes squinting against the drizzling rain, and with a sigh, the man shoved his hands in his pockets. "I can see it in your eyes. Something like this … it's horrific, but you don't even see it."

"I've seen a lot," Alex admitted, and she let the sheet fall back over the body. "You get used to those kind of things."

"No, you don't." Hodge adjusted the sheet to it lay smoothly across the corpse's face. "At least, you shouldn't. Hell, I must be twice your age, and I still feel sick looking at that."

"Well, I'm sure we've both have very different life experiences." Alex leaned back on her haunches, lips pressed together to hold back a small smile. "Bad things happen in this world, Deputy. I've seen my fair of them." She pushed herself to her feet with a glance towards Sam, who was halfway up to the car. "We'll leave you guys alone to finish up here. Please, give us a call if you and your squints find anything unusual. You have our number." With a quick, departing nod, the angel excused herself and hurried after Sam.

...

 **A** lex dropped down into the chair across from Sam, wings drawn in close as she put her hands onto the smooth oak table. The restaurant around them bustled with life, the neon lights from the bar catching on the lacquer. "What did Dean want?" she asked, shrugging off her jacket as she spoke. "Everything okay back home?"

"Uh, yeah. Everything's fine." Sam reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip as he studied the menu. "He was just checking in. He says hi, by the way."

"Good for him." Alex leaned back as the waitress brought them their drinks, and she let her eyes turn out across the restaurant. Once the woman was gone, she added, "Did he say anything about Cas?"

"Nothing much. I guess he's moved back into my room, though. I think he likes the tv." Sam shrugged, unsure what else to say. "Has he even tried to go outside? Maybe some sun would do him good."

"That's what I keep telling him." Alex heaved a sigh, and she reached out to draw her beer close. "He swears he's tried, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. I think … I think it's like PTSD or something from that spell. I get the feeling he's afraid that if he goes back out, he'll hurt people again." She expected Sam to scoff, and when he didn't, she added, "I mean, it's ridiculous because he's not under the spell's control anymore. Nothing's going to make him do anything he doesn't choose to do."

"Yeah," Sam hesitantly agreed, "but just because it's not rational doesn't mean his fear isn't real, you know? Come on — don't tell me there's nothing you've done that made you feel like that."

"Nothing that made me hide in my room for months, no," Alex retorted, and her blunt fingernails clinked on her beer bottle. "But … I know how it must feel. Sorta." The angel leaned forward, lowering her voice so others couldn't overhear. "Listen, I haven't told Dean or Cas about this, but back when Cas and I were staying with Jody — just after I made my deal — Crowley made me track down some demons."

"Demons?" Sam repeated, his eyebrows lifted, and Alex shrugged.

"Abaddon loyalists," she explained. "They were in Sioux Falls, and Crowley had me hunting them down. I don't know why — for fun, maybe. He said a man and his wife were possessed. I went in, killed the husband no problem, but the wife … she was clean. She and her two year old daughter had been sleeping upstairs. So I let her live." Alex's eyes fell onto the lip of her bottle, and her wings drooped at her side. "Crowley was there when I got out. When I told him I let her live, he … he set the entire house on fire." Her eyes flickered shut briefly, her grace twitching at the memory. "It just … _exploded_ into flames. Everyone inside died."

Sam's voice was quiet. "That wasn't your fault, Pip."

"It _was_. If I had just done what I was told, that little girl would still be alive. Crowley only killed them to make a point. That moment — it was like a switch just went off inside of me, like my conscious just turned off." Her hand went out to gesture to the patrons at the bar. "If Crowley told me to, I would kill every single one of them, and I wouldn't even care."

Silence followed her words, and Alex took a sip of her drink as Sam thought. "What if I asked you to?" he finally said, and the angel blinked.

"You wouldn't do that," she promised with a scoff.

"Yeah, but if I did. Would you do it?"

Alex hesitated, her eyes flickering back to the bar as she sized up those around her. "I might, yeah," she finally admitted, and her gaze turned back to Sam in time to see his hazel eyes darken a shade. "What? You're the one who asked, Sam. I'm not telling you this to make you upset."

"No, no, I know," Sam quickly backtracked. "And I appreciate it. It's just … good to know. Dean and I have definitely noticed. Thanks for telling me."

"Yeah, no problem." Alex leaned back into her chair with a half-hearted shrug. "Anyways. Did you hear anything from the cops about our second body?"

"No, but it's only been an hour or two." Sam mimicked her, leaning back in his chair as he reached for his glass of water. "I'm not sure what they can learn that would help us, though. We know the when and the how. The only thing we're missing is the who and why." His eyes turned upwards, and Alex followed his gaze, frowning when all she saw was the ceiling. "Hey, you ever listened to the Cranberries?"

"Uh, no? Who are they?"

"Band that's playing right now." Sam gestured up towards the speakers peeking out from the wooden ceiling panels. "I guess my mom used to listen to them a lot back in the day." He took a sip of his water. "You know what, never — never mind."

Alex grinned, mouth half open to respond, but a brush of fire against her grace had her pausing. The touch had been faint, barely a pinprick, but it had been there. Her chair scraped as she pushed herself to her feet, and she almost didn't hear Sam's confused question. Her legs carried her towards the kitchen, breaking into a sprint as she wove between the waitress until she could throw open the back door and jump out into the alleyway.

She almost lost her footing as a man rushed past her, running in a frenzied panic, and the angel could taste blood and sulfur in the air. "Wait!" She spun towards the disappearing demon, but her head twisted at a second set of footprints that came from behind her.

A darkly-clad man stood in the alleyway. He was young — tall and lanky with a smooth, childish face, and Alex's wings rose hesitantly as she turned to face him. "Were you … were you chasing that guy?"

" _Ventus formidulosus_!" A rush of wind pushed past her, almost knocking Alex from her feet. Her feathers fluttered wildly, the bare vanes rattling from the force, but her grace kept her firmly rooted to the ground.

The man's eyes stretched wide, and it took him mere seconds to flee, leaving Alex standing in the alley, confused and alone. The back door flew open with a bang, and Sam stumbled out onto the pavement. "What the hell? Why'd you run?" The questions tumbled out of his mouth, and Alex scowled as she shoved her hands in her pockets.

"I think I just met our witch," she muttered, turning to face Sam as she shook her feathers out so they could lie flat. "He, uh … he looked like a kid." She eyes slid past Sam as the shadows shifted, and the angel sighed. "Hey. What are you still doing here?" she demanded, pushing past the Winchester to confront the demon.

"You — you're Alex, aren't you?" The demon stumbled slightly before he composed himself.

"Yeah, I am. Now get out of here before I call Crowley on your ass, okay, punk?" Alex dismissed him with a flick of her wing, and the demon bolted off down the alleyway. "Sorry." She glanced over her shoulder at Sam with a tight-lipped frown. "Anyways, I got a good look at our perp. Think the cops can help give an ID?"

"It's worth a shot," Sam agreed. "We can head there after dinner. I don't know about you," he added when Alex opened her mouth to protest, "but I need food. I haven't eaten since breakfast." He pointed towards the door, and, with a roll of her eye, Alex lead the way back into the restaurant.

...

 **"J** ames Chapman." Alex spoke the name over the roar of the Marquis' engine, eyes narrowed as she stared down at the picture on her phone. "Age nineteen. This is definitely the guy that I saw." She held it out so Sam could see, and the hunter's eyes flickered from the road for a moment to study the image. Thunder cracked in the distance, and Alex peered out the windshield up towards the sky.

"Great." She almost missed Sam's reply, and she quickly returned to her seat with a nod. "Uh, did Hodge send an address with the photo?"

"Yes he did. Sent over everything they had. I guess James has been causing trouble around town. He's had two search warrants a couple years back in relation to, uh, theft apparently, but no charges ever stuck." Her lips pressed together, and she glanced over at Sam. "Why would a witch bother to resort to stealing?"

"Who knows. The thrill, maybe?" Sam shrugged, uninterested in the rationale. "Where's the house?"

"Corner of Vauxhill and Brampton. I'll find you a map." Alex held out her hand, and after some shuffling, Sam handed her his phone. "I, uh, I think I got some witch-killing bullets in the trunk. Unless Dean dug them out for some reason." She quickly typed the address into Sam's phone and dropped it back into his lap before returning her gaze to her phone. "Anyways, none of the charges ever amounted to anything, and the cases ended up going cold."

"Is that all?" Sam turned the Marquis down a suburban road, and the angel shrugged. "I mean, robberies? That's it?"

Alex scoffed. "What were you expecting? Complaints about cauldrons and late-night rituals? We're lucky the cops recognized this asshat at all." She leaned over so she could peer at Sam's phone. "We're close. Slow down."

The headlights flickered and died as Sam slowed the Marquis to a roll, and Alex leaned forward, her grace rising to her eyes as she looked out into the darkening street. A small one story rambler lay at the end of the road, the windows dark and covered by a thick curtain, and the engine died as the car stopped on the far curb. "Let's go." Sam slipped out of the car, circling around to the trunk, and Alex followed at a slower pace, giving him time to dig around for his bullets and snap the clip into his gun.

She fell in at his side as he led the way up to the front step, her grace sneaking out to survey the property. "I don't feel anyone." Her voice was thick with disappointment, her shoulders falling as she stopped at the door. "I don't think he's here."

"That's fine. Let's just take a look around the inside." Sam gestured towards the door, and Alex let her grace stretched out to undo the lock. "Maybe there's something there that'll tell us where he went."

"There better be." Alex led the way into the house with a disgruntled flick of her wings. "I want to get out of town before Crowley hears about it. I haven't heard from him since Connecticut. And personally, I hope he never talks to me again." Her grace rising to adjust for the darkness of the room, and she added after a moment's pause, "There's no one here. House is clean."

"Great." Sam closed the door behind him, and Alex sidestepped to give him room. "I'll check the living room. You start in the bedroom." He pointed off down the hallway, and the angel nodded, slipping off towards the closed door.

Her grace twitched as she reached it, and Alex paused, feeling out towards the twinge. It hadn't come from the house, but from within. _Cas?_ She shot the quick prayer towards her mate, concern lacing each word. _You okay there, buddy?_

The feeling disappeared, fading back into silence, and when no answer came, Alex gave a reluctant shrug. The door opened easily beneath her touch, swinging open to reveal a small, sparse bedroom. A pile of clothes sat in the far corner, half-hidden by the bed frame, and beyond it lay a nightstand.

Its drawer creaked as it opened, and Alex flipped through the sparse contents with a thin frown. Post-it notes, a handful of pens, and an unopened box of condoms. Nothing out of the ordinary. She slammed the drawer shut and crossed over to the closet. "Holy hell." Alex stepped back to get a better view of the packed space, filled to the brim with clothes. "It's like a department store."

Silence met her comment, and Alex glanced over her shoulder towards the closed door, her grace flicking out to make sure Sam was still alone. A glimmer of white caught her eye as she turned back, and the angel tipped her head. She shoved the clothes aside to see the back of the closet, where papers were tacked haphazardly to the drywall. There were photocopies of book pages, all connected with twine, and Alex squinted to read the headlines. "Demons, huh? I guess that makes sense."

She let the clothes fall back into place, hiding the handiwork as she stepped back. As interesting as it was, it held no indication of _where_ the witch could be. "Hey." Sam's voice rang through the empty house, and Alex's wings perked up. Two steps carried her across the bedroom and out through the door, and she hurried down the hall in search of the Winchester. "Over here." Sam waved at her from inside the living room, his flashlight illuminating a cheap pine desk. "Find anything in the bedroom?"

"Whoever this witch is, he was digging deep into the demon lore. He had it all hung up in the back of his closet." Alex's shoulders rose and fell in a shrug as she crossed the carpet to stand beside the desk. "That was it, though. It was pretty empty. What did you find?"

"Legal documents." Sam motioned down to the desk beside him. "It looks like James Chapman was leasing a property just outside of town. Did Hodge say anything about that?"

"No, he didn't mention it at all." Alex took the paper that Sam held out to her, eyes scanning the fine print. "We got an address?"

"Yup." Sam rifled through the rest of the desk's contents, but, finding nothing, shut the drawer. "We can be there in half an hour." He took the lease back from Alex, who reluctantly let it go, and after a second's pause, he asked, "You think James is going to be there?"

"Dunno. I guess it's our best shot, though." Alex sidestepped the Winchester to peer into the small kitchen, adding, "If we're lucky, he'll be there, and we can kill him quick and call it quits. I'm starting to get weird sad-vibes from Cas, so …" She trailed off at the sight of Sam's pensive face. "What?"

"Do you … do you actually think we should kill James?" Sam spoke slowly, hesitation drawing out each word. "I mean … killing demons — that's not exactly bad, and we can't just go around killing people. We're supposed to be saving them, remember? That's our job."

"So, what are you suggesting?" Alex's head tilted as she looked up into his face. "That we just _talk_ to a witch?"

Sam mimicked her frown. "Killing demons is a _good_ thing. Maybe all he needs is someone to show him how to do it tactfully. Plus, having a witch on our side could actually be useful."

"Yeah, except after Rowena, I wouldn't trust a witch for half a second." Alex's wings flicked at how Sam's jaw hardened, and with a sigh, she relented. "Fine. You could have a point, so we'll go with your plan. But if he goes sideways — even a little — I'm calling it. Witches are witches."

"Okay." Sam gave a nod, his eyes flickering across her. "Well, come on. We should get going before James tries to leave town." He crossed over to the door, and, with a shrug, Alex trailed after him, locking the front door behind her as she followed Sam towards the car.

...

 **T** he paved road that led up to James' property wove through the open prairies before it ended abruptly, giving way to tall grass, and the Marquis lurched to a stop. Alex leaned forward in her seat to peer through the darkness as the engine died, trying to catch sight of some sort of man-made structure, but the land was obscured from sight by a wooden fence, the boards rotten near their base. "Creepy." Alex threw open the door and stepped out into the night, cursing under her breath as her boot found a puddle of mud. "You sure this is the right place?"

"It's what the signs said." Sam followed her out, his body outlined by the faint moonlight. "Let's check it out." From his pocket he produced a small flashlight, and Alex fell in step behind him as he started to pick his way down a worn dirt path. The opening in the fence was barely wide enough for a small car to pass through, and Alex could make out faint tire tracks in the dirt beneath her feet.

The path stretched out beyond the fence, leading down a small, grassy hill to a barn. A light shone through the thin window, a dark orange glow, and Alex stretched her grace outwards to feel inside the building. "Someone's there," she murmured. "One human, one demon."

She pushed two paces ahead of Sam as they crossed the yard, and her fingers reached back to feel along the outline of her angel blade beneath her shirt. The barn door creaked open beneath her touch, and Alex flattened her wings against her back as she slipped through.

She recognized James Chapman's lanky form against the candlelight, his back to the two hunters, and her eyes slid past him in search of the demon she had felt. There. He sat in a chair in front of the witch, bound with ropes. "Nice setup." Her voice had Chapman turning around, and surprise and alarm flashed through his pale eyes. "You got a license for that?"

Sam knocked the back of his hand against her shoulder, a silent signal for her to be quiet, and the angel let him step forward to take the lead. "James, my name is Sam." He moved slowly, one hand extended in a show of innocence while he carefully tucked his gun back into his jeans. "We're just hear to talk."

"How — how do you know my name? How did you find me?" The witch tripped over his words, and it took him a moment to compose himself. "Who are you?"

"We're hunters." Sam pointed to himself and Alex in turn. "My name is Sam Winchester. This Alex. And that's a demon." He pointed to bound man, and Alex lips pursed into a thin frown as she recognized him as the demon from earlier that night. "Two dead demons turned up in town. That was you, wasn't it?"

James Chapman hesitated, his gaze flickering between the two, and Alex forced her shoulders down into a neutral position. "How did you find me?" he repeated.

"Like he said, we're hunters." Alex hid an amused smirk as she looked up at Sam. "And you're a witch, right? I know spellwork when I hear it," she added when Chapman's mouth fell open in the start of a defense. "It's fine. We hunt demons as well. Like Sam told you, we just want to talk."

She let her grace rise up as she studied the demon, eyes narrowing as she tried to pick out the spell that held the demon fast. Hazy lines trickled around his vessel, keeping him in place, and Alex was so intent on studying it that she almost missed Sam's question. "Why exactly is a witch out hunting demons?"

The barn fell silent as Chapman studied them, and it took a moment before the reluctance slipped away. "They killed my mom." His pale eyes darkened as he spoke, and the demon behind him scoffed. "She taught me everything she knew before she died, and now I'm going to avenge her, even if it kills me too!"

Alex felt Sam stiffen, surprised by the confession, and she tilted her head. "Your mom was a witch? And she died? Recently?" Chapman nodded, and Alex's lips pressed together as she thought. "Why would demons be killing witches?" she murmured, her question directed up to Sam. "That doesn't sound like something they normally do … I mean, unless Crowley put them up to it, but he's been too occupied with Amara to worry about Rowena."

"Rowena?" James spoke up, surprise in his voice, and Alex turned away from Sam. "You know Rowena?"

Alex frowned. "Unfortunately. How do you know her?"

"I don't. My mother just talked about her. A lot." James took a step towards them, his interest piqued, and Alex's eyes flickered past him to the demon. "Do you think — do you think she was involved?"

"She was probably the damn reason," Alex admitted scornfully. "Crowley put a hit out on all of her coven friends about a month ago." The demon scoffed once again, and Alex scowled in his direction. "And I thought I told you to beat it," she snapped. "The hell you still doing in town, dipshit?"

"Tracking spell." The demon spat out the words. "And this." He lifted his hand against his bond to show off a symbol burned into the flesh of his palm. "Keeps me from smoking out. Now get me the hell out of here, you hear?"

His eyes flashed black, but Alex merely flicked a wing. "Clever," she mused, and her gaze flickered over to Chapman to find him staring at her, his muscles tense. "But I'm not letting you go. One of us —" She motioned between herself and the witch "— is going to kill you."

"Or we could just exorcise them," Sam corrected, and he turned towards Chapman, his hazel eyes wide in a plea. "Listen, these people that the demons are possessing — you don't need to kill them, too. There's other ways."

"You want to exorcise me?" To Alex's surprise, the demon's eyes stretched wide, and even in the candlelight, Alex could see the blood on his face, evidence of torture, and James turned back to him, his shoulders hunched in digust. "Pathetic. Do you really want to know who killed your mom, kiddo? Cause I know exactly who it was. It was her." He jerked a chin towards Alex, and the angel stiffened in surprise at the accusation. "Cafe Eltra, Colorado? That was her. She was there." His eyes darted over to Sam, his thin lips curled up in a smirk. "They both were. They're hunters, Jimmy. Killin' witches is what they do."

Chapman froze, and Alex's hands tightened at her side as the witch turned back to her. "Is that true?" He stepped towards them, his eyes narrowed as he looked between the two hunters. "Were you there?"

"Cafe Elta?" Sam's brow furrowed as he thought. "Yeah, that was —" With a flick of James' wrist, Sam went flying across the room. His back slammed into the barn wall, which shook under the impact, and the Winchester collapsed to the ground.

"Hey!" Alex's wings flared, and her feathers rustled in anger. Her hand went back to grab her angel blade, the slick metal shimmering in the candlelight. "You've got it all wrong." James ignored her, taking a step towards Sam, and Alex darted forward to place herself between the two men. "Sam went there after everyone was dead," she insisted, her words rushed as she held out a hand to stop James. "He didn't kill anyone. I did. I was there when they all died —" _Kill him_. A voice echoed in her head, a harsh, demanding whisper, and Alex cut off with a choked noise of surprise at its presence.

James froze, and the angel steeled herself for whatever was to come next. "You're one of them, aren't you?" His shoes scuffed against the ground as he took a half-step back. " _Adiuro vos corpis tuum, daemon!_ "

Alex forced her grace up to her eyes, her irises glowing in warning. "I'm not a demon." She could feel her deal rise as she spoke, oozing across her grace like oil. "And I didn't have a choice, okay?"

"You didn't have a choice? You killed my mother! You — you —" James' voice shook with anger, but Alex barely heard him. _Kill him now!_ The voice filled her ears, resonating across her deal, and Alex's fingers tightened on the handle of her blade, her muscles tense to keep it stiffly at her side.

The flashing of a metallic weapon snapped her back into reality, her wings flapping violently as she reeled back in surprise. Her own blade went up, and she felt tip slide through fabric. A cry of pain told her she hit flesh, and the angel spun out of the way. "Hey!" she snapped, her grey eyes stretching wide. "Stop! I don't want to —"

 _KILL HIM!_

Alex threw herself forward. She ducked beneath a blow aimed towards her head, and her blade flashed up to parry a swipe at her ribs. she threw a punch into the witch's chest, and James fell back with a wide-eyed grunt. "Alex!" Sam struggled to his feet, gripping his head with a scowl as he took a step towards the two. "Wait!"

" _Redipiscor!_ " James sent Sam back into the wall with one hand, and the Winchester hit the ground with a heavy thud.

"Sam!" Alex's wings flared out, and she took a step in his direction, the witch forgotten.

" _Cadunt ad solum!_ " The ground pitched beneath her feet, and Alex's hands went out to catch herself, her grace snapping in surprise as her palms collided with the wooden floor. Black flashed in the corner of her eye, and she rolled. A body crashed into her, grappling for control, and Alex fought back, fingernails digging into cotton as her grace spiraled out, poised to kill.

A flash of gold caught her eye, and Alex twisted her head to the side as a blade plunged down. She felt it tear through the flesh beneath her brow, grazing past her eye. And she heard her own scream of surprise as her vision bled red and her arms flung out.

Her palms connected with a solid chest, and the force knocked James away. She scrambled to her knees, hands lifted to defend herself from another attack.

It never came. A gunshot echoed through the barn, and James collapsed in front of her. The angel blade fell from his hands, and the sound of it clattering against the wood filled the silent air.

She barely heard the footsteps until Sam was at her side, and his large hand cupped the back of her neck as he dropped down onto the ground next to her. "Hey, hey." His voice was thick with worry, and Alex tilted her head in confusion. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm … fine." Alex could feel the blood dripping from her chin, and her grace rushed up to her face, trying to control the damage and suppress the pain. "It's just a flesh wound. I can't …" Blackness crowded half of her vision, and Alex paused to steady her breath. "I can't see. There's too much blood." She tried to blink the blood away, but the pain sucked the air from her lungs, and her chest constricted in a soundless gasp.

"Move your hand." Sam's wrist tugged on her arm, and Alex let her hand fall away from her left eye. When had she covered it? The blackness persisted, and the angel squared her jaw as she felt Sam lean in. "I can't … I can't tell how bad the damage is."

"It's okay." Alex reached up to gently push Sam's hands away, and she turned her head so she could look him in the eyes. "I'm an angel. It will heal." Her hand went back up to cover her eye, grimacing at how wet the skin felt. She could feel a twinge of fear rising from beneath the adrenaline that coursed through her veins, making her numb, and she forced the fear down the best that she could. "Don't worry about me."

"Alex, he just stabbed you in the _eye_." Once again, her head was in Sam's hands, the pads of his fingers gently pressing against her cheeks to hold her steady. "No, no, don't try and get up," he snapped when Alex shifted, and the angel immediately stilled.

"He didn't stab my … my eye." Alex's brow furrowed in confusion, an action that immediately had her flinching at the pain. "I — I think he missed." _Had it?_

She reached up, but Sam slapped her hand away before she could probe at the wound on her face. "I don't …" Sam's lips pursed together tightly, and his gaze flickered past her to the barn door. "I'm going to get some things from the car. Can I leave you here alone?"

"Of course. I'm fine." The blackness around her vision shifted, and the angel narrowed her eyes. Was it growing larger?

"No, you're not. You're in shock —" Sam cut off with a sharp shake of his head. "Just sit here and don't move. I'll be right back."

 _Back?_ Alex turned, but Sam was gone. Where did he go? The question was a whisper in the back of her mind, and Alex opened her mouth to call out before the answer came back. The car. He had gone out to the car. She pulled her hand away from her face to stare at the thick ruby rivulets that ran down her wrist, dripping onto the floor. Her grace was hot against her skin, burning at the cells as they raced to fix whatever damage that they could, but the wound felt stubborn, like dried rubber that refused to bend.

A glitter of gold caught her good eye, and the angel turned her head, her wound momentarily forgotten. An angel blade lay beside James' body, and Alex felt her limbs move on their own accord, moving her towards the discarded sword.

"Hey, hey, hey!" That was Sam. "What did I say?"

"Look at this." Alex picked up the weapon, holding it out so Sam could see. "It's different. Not like mine." She turned it in her hands, staring at the golden twisting blade.

"Alex, stop moving. We have to get this bleeding under control —"

"I'm not going to die, Sam." That thought rang through her head, sharper and clearer than anything else, and Alex sat back on her haunches as she repeated herself. "I'm not going to die, otherwise Crowley would be here." Her grace was thrumming hotter than ever before, and she could feel the heat spreading through her cheeks and neck.

Sam sat quietly for a moment, formulating his response, and Alex took the silence as a chance to study the angel blade again. "Just let me help you stop the bleeding," he finally said. "You're not healing fast enough without it." Something pressed up against her face, and Alex flinched away in surprise at the sharp, shooting pain as the gauze brushed up against her open flesh. "We'll take a better look later when you're feeling more like yourself."

"Okay." Alex blinked her good eye in agreement, careful not to move her head as Sam continued his work. "Okay, I … that sounds good to me." She winced again at the pain, and her good eye fell down onto her bloody clothes. There was a lot; far more than she was comfortable with, but the face always bled a lot. And she was an angel — she didn't need blood, right?

Sam grunted in agreement, and Alex's eye snapped up to him. Which of those thoughts had she said aloud? She felt the air swim around her, hot and vicious, and the angel stifled a nervous shiver. Maybe she really was in shock. She could still feel her grace against her eye, working to the point of exhaustion, and she reluctantly pulled it back, teeth clenched at the pain that followed. Slow and steady. If it wouldn't heal quickly, then she needed to pace herself. She let some trickle back upwards, surrounding the nerves and shutting down the pain. There we go. Slow and steady.

...

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** lex reached up to gingerly touch the stitches, shivering as her fingers brushed up against the thick, tender threads. "Is it … is it bad?" The words came out as a whisper, and she turned her good eye onto Sam.

He was standing in front of her, his face partially hidden by his hair that fell across his forehead. He brushed it away with his forearm, and Alex felt her bottom lip tremble slightly at his hesitance to respond. "I don't know." He dropped down onto the bed next to her, and Alex's fingers toyed with hem of her sheets. The lights in her bedroom had all been turned on to aid the Winchester in his work, but it still seemed dark to her. She felt a hand tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she jumped, head whipping to the side to watch Sam lower his hand back to his lap. "I don't know what that weapon was, but it … if your grace can't heal it …"

"I can heal it." The insistence sounded hollow and defensive as Alex shrugged off Sam's concern. "It might take a while, but I can fix it." She reached up to cover her good eye, and the world plunged into darkness. A hint of gray tinged the black, but it was faint and barely there. Alex reluctantly lowered her hand, and the world returned. "Thanks, Sam."

"No problem." The bed creaked as Sam pushed himself to his feet. "I guess I better go face Dean. He'll want to know what happened." Alex winced; she remembered Dean's concern as Sam had carried her through the bunker doors; she could still feel the memory of his panic against her grace at all of that blood, but Sam had shooed him away, and the Winchester had retreated back to the library for a drink.

Sam hesitated in the doorway before he stepped out, and before he had time to close the door behind him, Castiel was stepping into the room. Alex's wings drew in closely at the sight of him. She turned her head away to hide her face as he closed the door behind him, and she felt his grace reach out. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling fine." Alex chanced a look up into the seraph's face, head tilted to only show her good eye. "How are you?"

Castiel didn't answer, and he crossed the room to kneel in front of her, his eyes level with her face, and Alex reluctantly lifted her head so she could meet his worried gaze. She watched how he carefully catalogued her features, the blues of his irises darkening with each passing second. "I'm sorry." When he spoke, his voice was a low murmur. "I …"

"There's nothing you could have done." Alex felt his grace push up against hers, and she undid the knot that separated him from her. His face furrowed in pain as his grace delved inside, entwining with hers, and his wings folded forward. "It's ... I probably deserved this. I killed his mother."

Her words went unheard by the seraph. "I should have been there." He reached up to cup her cheek, his fingers running gently across the coarse stitching. "I thought … I thought if I kept myself locked away, I could somehow keep you safe. That you wouldn't be hurt like how I had hurt you." His other hand came up, resting against the unmarred flesh of her right cheek, and Alex closed her eyes as his thumb brushed against her lashes. "I never thought …"

"You can't stop me from getting hurt." Alex reached up to take his hands, digging her fingernails into his wrists slightly to encourage him to let her go. "Not in this line of work." She smiled, a grin that faltered at the pain as her injured eye squinted. "I'm sure this will heal, given time. I, uh, I grabbed the witch's weapon." She reached behind her, her fingers feeling along the sheets for the handle of the angel blade. "I've never seen anything like it."

She held out the weapon, her fingers curled tightly around the black handle. The twisted golden blade glimmered in the lamplight, and Castiel's face tightened at the sight. "He … had this." The seraph carefully took it from her, and Alex managed a nod, confused at his reaction.

"Yeah. What … what is it? It feels weird. I remember that, uh, Grigori we hunted had a weird looking sword. But it wasn't anything like this," she quickly added. "I didn't realize that they came in different shapes."

"This isn't a Grigori sword." Castiel's eyes didn't leave the weapon in his hand. "This … this is an archangel blade." His gaze snapped up to her, and Alex felt his grace wince at the sight of her gauze-covered eye. "Where did he get this?"

"I, uh, I don't know." Alex reached out for the weapon, and Castiel reluctantly handed it back. "An archangel blade, huh? So it can, uh — I can kill an archangel with this?"

"Only an archangel can wield it against an archangel, but anyone, even a human, can wield it against demons. And other angels, apparently." Castiel's hand went up to cup her left cheek, and Alex flinched at the touch. "If this was inflicted by an angel blade, it would heal, but … I don't know if this …" He paused, taking the moment to collect his thoughts before he started again, and Alex felt her heart start to sink. "I don't know if our grace can heal a wound inflicted by an archangel blade. No angel who has ever encountered one has lived to recover."

"So we just don't know." Castiel nodded in agreement with Alex's statement, and she flashed her teeth in a grin; from the look on Castiel's face, the expression had come out more like a grimace. "Maybe it'll just take time. That's not bad news."

The seraph nodded. "Only time will tell," he agreed, and he settled back onto his heels, his hands in his lap. "I don't think you should go hunting until it heals," he decided. "Even if you don't retain …" He trailed off, his eyes sliding onto the ground, and Alex prompted him on with a push of her grace. "I found a lead on Metatron," he finally said, and Alex leaned forward at the change in conversation.

"You did?" She pushed herself off of the bed to drop onto the ground next to him, ducking down so she could meet Castiel's lowered gaze. "Where? Does Dean know?"

"No. If Dean knew, he wouldn't hesitate to kill him. I was waiting for you and Sam to return to … to go after him, but …" He lifted his head, determination hardening his gaze. "You should stay here. I'll go talk with Sam myself."

Alex sank backwards, pressing her back against the mattress. "You're going to leave the bunker?" she asked, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. "Are you sure?"

Castiel hesitated, his grace rippling with indecision, but the determination remained. "Yes. You were hurt because I was too afraid. I won't let that happen again." He leaned forward, and Alex closed her eye as his lips pressed against her temple. "You need to rest. I need to speak with Sam." He helped her to her feet, and Alex slipped into bed, her wings curled in tightly around her. Castil hesitated at the bedside, his lips parted as if there was something more he needed to say, but it never came. The door closed behind him and, with a heavy sigh, Alex let her grace pull her down into sleep.


	29. Plush

**Sorry this is a day late - I spent all of yesterday making the trip from Minnesota to Illinois and didn't have time to post between my frenzied packing and the actual drive itself.**

* * *

 **...**

 **November 20th, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **T** he bunker lights flickered overhead, their ceaseless buzzing lost beneath the hum of the air conditioning. Alex stood motionless in the bathroom, her hands planted on the porcelain sink as she stared into the mirror that lay before her. Her reflection stared back, pale and hardened, and Alex leaned in closer. Sam had removed the stitching around her eye two weeks ago; after three days of fighting against the wound, her grace had finally been able to begin expediting her healing. To Alex, the process had been painfully slow, but the angry red scarring had finally given way to pale white lines, barely visible at first glance.

What was visible was her eye. The pupil was grey and cloudy, even lighter than the blue-grey iris. Her grace still pooled within it, burning tirelessly away, and Alex let it bleed through until her eyes glowed blue. A dark blue. The color was a deep sapphire, and Alex let it fall away with a disgusted huff. Her grace prickled, and Alex loosened her grip on the white sink. "Why's it doing that?"

She turned her head to look at Castiel. The seraph stood in the doorway, his wings draped loosely at his back. Alex felt his grace push up against hers as he stepped into the bathroom, and she turned her face back to the mirror. "I don't know." The seraph spoke slowly, and Alex's shoulders fell in defeat. "I think …" He hesitated, stopping behind her, and Alex flattened her wings so he could step closer. "I can feel Crowley's deal. It's been growing stronger ever since the Darkness emerged."

"I know. I can feel it, too. It's getting stronger every day." Alex let her grace rise up again to study the dark blue glow. "You think that's what's doing this?" Castiel didn't answer, and Alex leaned back into his chest with a sigh. "It's not important," she decided. "I'm just glad you're back. Did you find Metatron? Dean came back yesterday — I mean, I haven't really talked to him yet, but I was surprised you didn't come back with him."

Castiel's hands came to rest on her waist, keeping her close. "I sent Dean back because he wasn't ready to face Metatron," he explained, his warm breath brushing against her ear. "I was afraid that he would kill him before we could learn everything he had to say. And," he added after a moment's pause, "I was afraid that Dean would attempt to kill Metatron afterwards, too. With his grace removed, it's difficult not to pity him."

Anger momentarily thrummed along his grace, and Alex reached up with her hand to cup the back of his neck. "You … you were right to leave him alive," she murmured, and she watched as Castiel's hand moved upwards to brush against the scarring next to her eye. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and Alex dropped both her hands to her side as her wings wrapped around her. "It's healing," she insisted, and she turned her head away so Castiel couldn't see. "It'll take time."

"It's looking much better," Castiel agreed. "I was thinking that … perhaps because this was inflicted by an archangel blade … it may take an archangel to heal it. Have you spoken to Gabriel recently?"

"No. I haven't." Alex toed sourly at a loose tile, her chin pointed down to hide her scowl. "But it's not exactly like him to listen. He'll show up when he wants to, I guess." She felt Castiel's frustration, and she stepped away from his arms. "I'm sure he's okay. Come on. Let's go find Sam and Dean. I'm sure we're all very interested in what you learned from Metatron."

She held out a wing, motioning him forward, and Castiel followed her out of the bathroom. "I left them in the library," he explained. "They're waiting for you."

The tip of his wing brushed down her back as he took the lead, and Alex followed him down the hall and into the library. Like he had promised, Sam and Dean were there, seated at the nearest table. "Hey." Dean rose to his feet at the sight of her, his chair scraping against the ground. "You're looking better, Pip."

"I'm feeling better." Alex crossed the room to stand next to him, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jeans. "It's going to take more than a knife to the eye to slow me down." She dropped down into the seat next to Sam, her attention turned onto Castiel. "Well?" she prompted. "What did you learn?"

"I did find Metatron. And he has heard of the Darkness." Castiel hesitated, his eyes flickering between the three hunters before he spoke. "He claims that she is the sister of God."

Blank stares met his words, and Alex shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "God's … sister," she repeated. "As in … siblings. Like …" She motioned behind her towards Sam and Dean.

Hesitation darkened Castiel's face, but he nodded. "That's what Metatron said."

Dean scoffed loudly from his seat. "Well, maybe Metatron's lying. It's not like he's never tried to pull anything like that before."

"Metatron had no reason to lie." Castiel's fingers curled at his side, the only outward sign that he had to control his temper at Dean's scorn. "He said that creation … took work. It required a sacrifice, and that sacrifice was the Darkness. Amara," he corrected after a moment. "At least, that's what Metatron said."

Dean's lips pursed together, and for several seconds he was silent before he gave a reluctant huff. "Did he say anything else before you killed him?"

"I didn't kill him."

"You didn't —" Dean pushed himself to his feet, and Alex followed, ready to defend Castiel if it became necessary. "What the hell, Cas? You let him go?"

"He's not going anywhere, Dean." Castiel lifted his voice to match Dean's anger, and his wings rose, arching up above his head. "If he makes a move, if he draws the slightest attention, the full force of angelkind will snuff him out." He looked between Sam and Dean, his eyes finally resting upon Alex when he saw understanding upon her face. "Look, you —" He turned back to the Winchesters, " — neither of you saw him. He is a _human_ , and a pitiful one at that. He's not a threat to us."

Dean scowled, but to Alex's surprise, he backed down. "Well, it's something I guess," he said, turning back to his brother. "I guess we'll have to see what the lore says about God's fucking sister."

"There may be a way that I can help." Castiel spoke slowly, his grace rippling with hesitation, and Alex's head tipped to the side. "There is a large library in Gaza with manuscripts dating back to the rise of civilization. Perhaps there is something there that could help."

"Well, that'd, uh, that'd be great," Sam agreed, "except we don't have time to go halfway around the world."

Castiel gave a small shake of his head. "The angels have gates all around the earth," he explained. "I'm sure they would allow me to use them. They're are just as scared of the Darkness as we are," he added when Alex scoffed. "And without Hannah, they don't know what to do. I'm sure they'll see the reason behind my request."

The hesitation returned, and Alex reached out into the seraph's mind to find its source. Ah. "I think you should go." She stepped forward so her wings could brush against his. "I'll be fine here with the Winchesters while you're gone." Castiel's mouth opened, ready to protest, but she held up a finger to quiet him. "Don't worry about me, Cas. I've been hunting for — what is it now, five years? If this —" She tapped her left cheek, "— is the only serious injury I've gotten in five years, I think I can survive another couple days."

Castiel paused, indecision dancing in his eyes, but finally he nodded. "Alright," he relented. "I won't be gone long. Just … stay out of trouble."

"I'll do my best." Alex waited until the heavy metal door closed behind Castiel before she turned back to the brothers, her wings drawing back to her side at the looks on their faces. "What?"

"Nothing." Dean exchanged a glance with his brother, his teeth flashing in an amused grin. "It's just … you're really going to call that your 'only serious injury?' You basically get shot every other day."

"I watched a leprechaun impale you on his cane once," Sam added, and Alex frowned at his smile."I don't know how you're still alive."

"I was impaled _one_ time." Alex held up a finger to accentuate her words. "Once. And I didn't leave any marks, so I'm not counting it as a serious injury. Besides," she added sourly, "the important thing was that I reminded Cas I don't need to be babied. I'm capable of taking care of myself." She crossed back over to the library table and dropped down next to Sam, her feathers prickling as she felt Dean's gaze momentarily rest on her blind eye. "So I guess the next step is to start looking into God-lore, huh?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "but that can wait." He planted his hands against the library table, gesturing off towards his phone that lay beside one of the green desk lamps. "You remember Donna, right? Fat-sucker Donna? She called me with a case." He leaned forward, interest sharpening his gaze. "How do you feel about a killer bunny?"

...

 **Cottage Grove, Minnesota**

 **T** he glass door opened beneath Alex's touch, and the angel led the way into the Cottage Grove police department. She felt Sam and Dean followed close at her heels, their eyes sweeping across the precinct as they searched for the familiar face of Donna Hanscum. There. Alex nudged Sam, nodding off towards the left, and he took the lead as he wove among the metal desks. "Sheriff," he greeted. "Hey."

Donna turned around at the sound of his voice, excitement lighting up her face as she took in the three hunters. "Oh! You three are a sight for sore eyes!" She hugged each of them in turn, and Alex couldn't help but grunt at the strong grip.

"Mmm!" Dean echoed her as the sheriff reached up to hug him as well, and he stepped back to straighten his tie. "What, are you working all 10,000 lakes now? This isn't usually your beat."

"Just Washington County, what with the cutbacks and all." Donna shrugged as she stepped back to face all three of them once again. "For the most part, it's been tater tots and lemon drops, except for this doozy." The sheriff lifted her eyebrows, and Alex couldn't help but stretch her grace out through the room as Donna continued, "I mean, when you get a call about a killer Easter bunny, you don't know what to think."

"Yeah, well, that's pretty crazy," Alex agreed, drawing her grace back in, and Donna's attention turned down onto her.

"Oh, gosh!" Her face paled as she stared at Alex's face. "What in God's green earth happened to you?"

"Nothing." Alex felt her face flush, and she forced herself to stand straight, resisting the temptation to shy away from the sheriff's gaze. "Just a … an accident. Nothing that won't heal."

"Huh." Some of the shock had left Donna's voice. "Looks like a doozy." When Alex just shrugged, she turned back to the brothers, her tone growing stronger as she returned to the case at hand. "Anyhoo, the guy's real strong. Lashed out at several officers. Took a whole team just to get him into custody. But that's not the weirdest part." She leaned in, her voice dropping. "Bunny head won't come off."

"What do you mean?"

Donna shrugged in answer to Sam's question. "Tried everything short of a chainsaw, but it's really stuck. I mean, who knows? Could be nothing. Guy could just have a big melon like my Uncle Wally. But ever since I've seen what goes bump in the night … I'm not taking any chances."

"You definitely did the right thing," Alex promised, and Donna smiled.

"Maybe," Dean agreed, and Alex glanced up in his direction. "I'm just still not one hundred percent sure that this is our kind of case. But if, uh, you got a wild hare …" He paused, grinning, "See what I did there?"

"Who you got there, Sheriff?" A dark-haired man walked up behind Donna, dressed in the local uniform. Like Donna, he had a thick accent and sparking blue eyes, and Alex tipped her head — where was the precinct finding all these people who talked like this?

Donna glanced over her shoulder and then stepped back to let the man into the circle. "Agents, this is Officer Stover," she said, and the man nodded in greeting. "He's lead on the case."

"Ah." Sam reached out to shake Stover's hand. "Agents Elliot and Savage. This is Special Agent Kenning."

Alex gave a small wave at her name. "Huh." The officer's eyes widened as he took in the three of them. "Nice to meet ya. And please, call me Doug."

"Well, nice to meet you, Doug." Alex reached out to shake his hand, her wings flicking at the man's deceptively strong grip. "We're just here to help out with this bunny perp that you've got."

"Oh. We're gonna need it." Doug glanced over at Donna, adding with a smile, "And not that Sheriff Hanscum isn't doing a bang-up job. We're lucky to have her." Donna's eyes dropped to the ground, and Doug cleared his throat. "Well, I better get back to it."

He walked away, and Dean couldn't help but chuckle as Doug disappeared from sight. 'Hey," he defended when Donna's eyes turned onto him, "it's none of our business, but it looks like somebody might have a crush."

Donna's lips set into a tight line. "I was born at night, Dean. Not last night." She folded her arms across her chest as she spoke, and Alex exchanged a look with Sam at the defensive tone.

She blinked, a silent question, and Sam shrugged. "What's the deal?" he asked Donna. "He seems nice."

"He is! But he's a cop … named Doug." Donna grimaced. "I mean, clearly, I have a type, but no thank you, ma'am. Won't be once bitten, twice Doug'd."

She muttered the last sentence under her breath, and Dean stifled an amused grin. "All right, where's the wascally wabbit?" he asked, and Donna's mood visibly lightened at the change in subject.

"This way." She waved them after her, and Alex fell in step at Sam's side as they started across the room. "The perp broke into the Hinkle house last night around quarter to ten and beat Stan to death with a broken beer bottle. Stabbed him right in the neck." She turned the corner and led the way down a set of concrete stairs. "After that, he just walked right out. We picked him up a few blocks away."

She led the way into the cell block, and Alex let her grace extend outwards towards the far cell. A figure sat on the bench, his bloody hands in his lap. His head was obscured by a large bunny mask; the white fur was matted with drying blood. "Were there any witnesses?" Sam's voice covered up Alex's muttered curse, and she slipped past him and Dean to hurry towards the cell.

"Yeah, vic's wife Fran Hinkle," Donna said. "Poor thing thought she was next, but the bunny just up and walked out the door. She seems a bit eager," Donna added after a second, and Alex glanced back to see the sheriff motioning in her direction.

Dean scoffed. "You should see her around dead bodies," he joked. "You I.D. the guy yet?"

"Nope. No wallet, no cell. Ran his prints, but no prior record. Couldn't even get our hands on him long enough to check for any identifying marks. Only thing we do know — he's Caucasian, roughly eighteen to twenty five. And terrifying."

"Can you open it up and let me in?" Alex grabbed the bars as she leaned forward, her grace poking curiously at the bunny mask.

"You want to go in?" Donna's eyes stretched wide. "If took four officers to get him into the cop car, and even then we could barely restrain him."

"Yeah, I figured. Can I go in?"

A knock on the wall had all four turning, and Alex peered past Sam to see Doug Stover rapping on the metal doorway. "Clive's on the line," he announced. "Said it's an emergency."

Donna sighed, and she stepped back with a shake of her head. "Just shoot a hoot if you need me," she told the three hunters, and Alex waved as Donna followed Doug out of the room and out of sight. She waited until their footsteps had faded away before she turned back to the cell, eyes narrowed as she stared at the bunny.

"Well?" She felt Dean step up next to her, and she shifted to give him room to look past. "You got anything?" He tapped on the bars, but the bunny didn't move. "So, what happened, pal?" he asked, lifting his voice in a taunt. "What, you dropped too much molly? Superglue your mask to your head, get paranoid, stab a guy?" He chuckled. "I've been there."

"It's not a guy." Alex turned back to look at Sam with a shake of her head. "I-I mean, it is a guy," she quickly corrected, "but he's possessed. Ghost, I'm thinking." She pushed her grace out again, shifting it slightly so its pulse sped up, and the air around the bunny grew hazy. She turned back to Sam and Dean, her lips pursed. "I'd bet my bottom dollar on it —"

Hands wrapped around her neck, and Alex jerked forward in surprise. "Hey!" Sam rushed forward, trying to pry the arm away, and the angel hissed as she dug her nails into the bunny's wrist. She pulled, and the bone snapped with an audible _crack_ as her grace rushed out into the mask.

The room's temperature dropped ten degrees in a second as the ghost was expelled, and then it disappeared, whisked away as the bloodstained mask fell to the floor. The sound was buried beneath a bloodcurdling scream as the man jerked back, grabbing onto his broken wrist as he dropped to the ground.

"What in the ..!" Donna's voice came from the doorway, and Alex jumped away from the bars, rubbing at her sore neck. "What happened?"

"We got the mask off." Alex scowled down at the bunny head before her good eye turned onto the young man, who was staring up at the four of them with wide, watery eyes. "It was haunted." She dropped down into a crouch, wings drawn in tight as she studied the man's face. "What's your name?"

"M-Mike? Mike Hooks." Mike pushed himself up so he could sit, his back resting against the metal bench. "W-Who … what happened?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out." Alex stood up as Donna stepped up to her side, her keys jingling as she unlocked the cell. The minute the lock was undone, Alex slipped inside, kicking the mask out of Mike's reach. "You were possessed by _that_." She pointed towards the discarded costume head. "You killed a man."

"No! No — I —!" Mike's eyes stretched wide. "I didn't do anything! I swear! I-I got the costume at a thrift store by Target. I put it on to try it out, and … and now — that's all I remember, I swear!"

"We believe you." Sam put a hand on Alex's shoulder, and the angel looked up at him, confused by the gesture. "It's okay. Do you know a man named Stan Hinkle?"

"W-Who?" Mike looked between Sam and Donna, his eyes quickly flickering past Alex. "No. Should — should I?"

"No." Dean spoke from behind the three of them. "Hey, Sheriff, can we talk to you for a minute?" He pointed towards the bunny head, adding, "Alex, bring that with." He motioned for Donna and Sam to follow him back out of the cell, and Alex scooped up the mask, stifling a disgusted noise as she felt it burn cold against her grace. She hurried after the Winchesters, making sure to close the cell door behind her.

The three had paused just down the hall, and Alex tucked the cumbersome head under her arm best she could as she came to stop at Sam's side. "That kid doesn't know anything," Dean started, ready to say more, but Donna cut him off.

"You said he was possessed?" she asked. "By what, some sort of a demon bunny?"

"No." Sam gave a slight chuckle. "By a a person dies, they can, uh, hold on to a place or an object. Usually they have some sort of unfinished business or are looking for revenge. It's pretty rare, but sometimes ghosts can become strong enough to actually take over a person and control them."

"We're looking for someone Stan knew who died recently," Alex added. "Probably not a murder — could be a missing persons or even an accident of someone with an old high school grudge."

"Well, geez, that could take days!" Donna scowled, and Dean shrugged.

"Why don't you hold off on that," Sam said. "It could be that this ghost's just tethered to the mask here. We'll take it out and burn it. Hopefully that'll put the spirit to rest."

"And we'll check out this thrift shop, too," Dean added. "Hopefully the owner can tell us who donated the mask and if there was any others." He shoved his hands into his pockets as he spoke, his green eyes flickering down onto Alex, and the angel nodded.

"And what about him?" Donna's gaze darted past the hunters towards the cellblock. "Poor kid didn't actually kill anyone."

"Well …" Dean hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he thought, "no one's seen his face yet. You could just let him go. Say he overpowered you and slipped out the back."

"Well, there's some female empowerment for ya," Donna muttered, but she let out a long sigh. "I'll take care of it. You three better get going. Better go out the back with that thing." She motioned off down the hall, and with a shrug, Alex took the lead towards the exit.

...

 **T** he Impala pulled up to the front of the brick store, and Alex leaned forward in her seat to look up at the white lettering in the darkened windows. "Soup Stone Thrift Shop, huh?" she read. "Weird." She glanced over her shoulder to see the Target on the other side of the street, adding, "I guess this is the right place."

"Come on." Dean got out of the car, and Alex followed, shoving her hands into her pockets as she followed the Winchesters towards the front door. "The bunny burned easy enough, but there might be more."

"There's always more," Alex muttered. The bell above the door _dinged_ as they entered, and the angel momentarily paused to look around the brightly lit interior. Shelves were tightly packed along the floor, crammed with clothes and trinkets.

"Welcome!" A cheery voice came from the right, and Alex's head snapped to the side to find the source. A woman stood behind the register, a smile upon her tanned face. "How can I help the three of you today?"

"Uh, hi." Sam stepped forward to speak with her, and Alex slipped further into the store. "Is there a manager we can speak to? We just have a few questions about a recent purchase." Alex circled around a rack, her eyes narrowed as she rifled through the merchandise. She could feel the soft brush of fabric against her left shoulder, and the angel muttered a curse at her blind eye as she swiveled her head so she could see the rack of shirts that lay next to her.

She heard footsteps near the front of the store, and she turned to see a middle-aged man step up behind the counter. "How can I help you gentlemen?" he asked Sam and Dean, and Alex started to weave her way back towards the brothers.

"Agents Elliot and Savage." Sam showed his badge, and Dean quickly did the same. "We were wondering if you can confirm if a Michael Hook came into the store yesterday? He would have bought a mask, uh — a big bunny head."

"Well, I don't know the man you're talking about, but I do know the mask." The man gave an unnerved smile which faltered as Alex stepped into sight.

"Agent Kenning." Alex flashed her ID, ignoring how the manager's gaze locked onto her pale, scarred eye. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

"Uh, Tom. Thomas Siek." He tapped his plastic name tag. "I run this place." He turned back to Sam and Dean. "What interest do you three have in that creepy mask?"

"We were wondering if you knew where it came from," Dean said. "Do you keep records of who brings in what?"

Tom gave a shake of his head. "Not unless we purchase the item. Most of our things are donations. There's a big old box up near the front where people can donate whatever they want, and then I've got a team that goes through once a week and salvages what they can. That head came in with a box of items," he added after a second. "I was working the day we stocked it."

"Oh, uh, great, great." Sam exchanged a quick look with his brother, who nodded. "Is there any chance that you can give us a list of what else came in with it?"

"Sure. Give me a minute and I'll draw one up for you." Tom disappeared into the back room, and Alex crossed over to stand next to Dean.

The Winchester watched until the manager disappeared from sight before he finally let out a huff. "Great," he muttered. "Well, hopefully nothing else is involved in this, but I guess we'll have to burn it all to be sure." He shook off the thought with a shake of his head, and he looked down at Alex. "Well? Did you feel anything?"

"Nope. But if the ghost isn't actually manifesting itself through that object, I doubt I'd be able to tell." Alex heaved a sigh. "Like you said, it's not worth the risk. Let's just burn it all and call it a day." She shoved her hands into her pockets as she leaned up against the counter, her grace rising to her eye in hopes of healing the damaged tissue.

The door behind her creaked, and she turned her head to watch Tom step back into the store, a folded sheet of notebook paper gripped in his hands. "Here you go, agents." He handed the list to Sam, and Alex circled around the brothers so she could peer over Sam's arm. "I think we still have the beaver and the dog one in back."

"Great. We're going to need them," Sam decided, and when Alex nodded in accordance to his request, Tom hurried away once again. "Here." Sam passed the list over to Dean, who took it with a thin frown. "It looks like there was seven costumes in total."

"Huh." The paper crinkled as Dean studied it. "Who the hell has that many of those things, huh? They're creepy." He folded the list and tucked it into his pocket as Tom returned, a big cardboard box in his hands.

"Here." Tom dropped it down onto the counter, and Alex peered into it to see two brown furry costumes, complete with two large heads. "What exactly is it that you need from them?"

"They're evidence in a out-of-town case," Sam lied. "Do — do you mind if we take these?" When Tom shrugged, he added, "And what about the other costumes? Do you know who they were sold to?"

"Yeah." Tom reached into his pocket to produce a second sheet of paper. "I wasn't sure if you were going to need the names, but I took the liberty of writing them down anyways. Here." He gave the new list to Alex, who quickly pocketed it. "And go right ahead, I guess. It's not like they cost me anything — they were donations, after all."

"Alright, well, thank you." Sam grabbed the box off of the counter, and Alex followed him out of the store and back into the parking lot. "Great." He tossed it into the backseat with a shake of his head. "Looks like we're going to be rounding up the rest of these for the next day or so."

"I guess so." Alex stifled a sigh at the prospect, and she turned her good eye up into the darkening sky. "Let's burn those first, and then we can get started first thing tomorrow." She slid into the backseat, and, with a shrug, both brothers followed.

Dean's phone rang, and the hunter paused halfway through reaching for his keys. "It's Donna." He leaned back in his seat as he answered, and Alex shifted away from the costumes as she listened to the call. "Hey," he greeted. "What's up, Sheriff?"

"We got another one." Donna's voice crackled through the line. "The football coach was attacked down at the local high school. We apprehended the school mascot, but the costume ain't coming off."

"We'll be there in ten," Dean promised. "Text Sam the address." He hung up and tossed his phone onto the seat next to him. "Local high school," he announced to Sam as he dug out his keys. "There's been another attack by someone with a mask."

"Wait, what about these?" Alex jerked a finger towards the box of costumes, and Dean hesitated before he shrugged.

"Guess they'll just have to wait," he decided, and the engine roared to life. "We'll burn them later tonight when we're done. It's not like they're going anywhere." He backed the car out of the parking lot, and Alex settled back into her seat as the Impala sped off down the road.

...

 **A** lex ducked beneath the yellow police tape, straightening the collar of her shirt as she stepped into the Cottage Grove High School weight room. She let her grace slide out through the building, turning her head away to avoid noticing the look the officer at the door gave her. "Ignore them." Sam's low voice sounded in her ear, and the angel glanced up into his face. "They're just surprised."

"I know. It looks weird." Despite her words, Alex forced her grace up into her eye, trying to scrub away the blindness. "I'll be fine. Hey, Sheriff!" She lifted her voice as Donna grew closer. "We're here. Where's the body?" Her gaze flickered past the cops to a small office set in the corner; blood lay thick in the air, sharp and metallic, but she couldn't find the source.

"No body this time." Donna nodded out a greeting to both brothers before she turned back to Alex. "Good news is that Coach Evans is still alive. Bad news — he's in a coma, so we're not out of the woods yet. Last I heard, they're taking him into surgery right now."

"Two masked psychos in two days." Doug appeared from Alex's blindside, and Alex's feathers flittered in surprise. "I mean, what are the chances?"

Donna shrugged. "My guess? Copycat killer."

"Damn social media," Dean added when Doug's face darkened skeptically.

Alex averted her gaze, stifling a scoff at the ridiculousness of the proposal, and Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah," he agreed. "Uh, did you guys talk to the kid yet?" He nodded towards a high school boy who sat on one of the wooden benches, his hands in his lap as he studied the ground.

"You mean Brock? Be my guest." Donna stepped out of the way to let them through.

"Thanks." Sam led the way, and Alex fell in step at Dean's side as they crossed the room. "Hi. Agents Elliot, Savage, and Kenning." He showed off his badge, and Alex quickly reached for hers to do the same. "It's Brock, right? Why don't you tell us what you saw."

The teen lifted his eyes to the three of them. "Not much, man," he admitted. "I mean, I was just hammering my bi's, getting all swole, and next thing I know, coach Evens is getting his ass kicked by the mascot."

"And who's the mascot?" Dean asked.

"Why would I know?" Brock's face furrowed, confused by the question. "I'm the quarterback. Besides," he added after a second, "his mask wouldn't come off. I couldn't believe how strong he was, either. I mean, for a scrawny dude, he was as strong as me, and I hold the state bench record."

"Oh yeah? What do you bench?"

Brock looked down at his biceps at the sound of Dean's skeptical voice. "Four plates," he bragged. "On each side."

"Oh." Dean clapped Alex on the shoulder, and she shrugged it off with a roll of her eyes. "Bet that's nothing for you."

Brock's lips tightened, his blue eyes darkening slightly in confusion as he looked Alex up and down, and Sam quickly cleared his throat. "Okay, so other than the, uh, mask not coming off and the Jester hulking out, did you notice anything else unusual? Like, uh, power surges or temperature fluctuations?"

"Uh, the weight room _did_ get really cold."

"Thanks." Sam waved Donna over to them, stepping off towards the corner to gain some privacy. "Looks like this was a ghost, too. Brock said that the room got cold, which is classic ghost."

"We swung by the thrift store where Mike said he got his costume." Alex dug into her pockets for the lists. "I don't remember a jester being on there, though." She looked up at Sam and Dean with a thin frown. "You think he just forgot to put it on there?"

"Let's hope so." Dean gave a small shake of his head before he turned to Donna. "You said you apprehended the guy? Where are they?"

"I got them in my cop car. I told Henry I'd take 'em back and get settled in the station as soon as I was done here. I figured you three would want to do your thing. Come on." She waved them after her as she led the way out of the weight room and down the staircase. "And I'm assuming we'll have to let them go, since they're innocent."

"That would be right," Sam agreed, and Donna sighed.

"I'm so losing my job." Donna pushed her way out into the dark night, and Alex shook out her wings as a warm summer breeze brushed past. "Here." She unlocked the car, and with a nod from Dean, Alex slipped forward.

"Even ghosts have their weakness," she heard Dean explain. "They hate iron and salt. That stuff's usually the best way to spook them enough to let go."

Alex yanked the jester out of the car, her fingernails digging into the person's sleeve as she felt them tense. The fabric was cold beneath her touch, and Alex snapped her grace out to chase the ghost away, encompassing the costume in one pass and drawing it out. The air grew chilly as the ghost was dispelled, and then the jester was collapsing. "Whoa." Alex staggered under the dead weight, and Sam reached forward to help steady her.

"That's … that's it?" Donna narrowed her eyes as she looked the jester up and down. "I thought it'd be a lot more …"

"I've got a few tricks up my sleeve." Alex yanked the jester mask away and tossed it onto the ground.

A young, rounded face lay beneath, the skin glowing silver in the moonlight. Brown eyes blinked, adjusting to the dim light as the young girl looked wildly around. "What — what's going on?" Her voice caught in her throat, and she fell silent, her eyes landing on Donna Hanscum.

"Don't worry, hun. Just gonna ask you a few questions, then you're free to go," Donna promised, and Alex felt the girl relax slightly under the sheriff's soothing tone. "Scout's honor. Now what's your name?"

"Michelle Eldard."

"You remember attacking Coach Evans?" Dean asked, and Michelle's head swung over to him.

" _Attack_?" she repeated, and her eyes grew even wider. "I-I — no, I swear! I went to pick up the new mascot costume, went to try it on, and the next thing I know … I-I'm here." She trembled, and Alex stepped away so the girl could sit down in the car.

"Did you even know him?" the angel asked, and she picked the jester mask up with a scowl.

The look went unnoticed by Michelle, whose eyes remained focused on the ground. "He … he was my P.E. coach last semester. I mean, he was kind of a hard-ass, but …" She lifted her head to meet Sam's gaze. "That doesn't mean I wanted him dead!"

She fell silent with a tremble, and Donna knelt down next to her, a gentle hand on her knee to calm her down. "Michelle," Dean began, "where did you get the costume? Was it a thrift store?"

"What?" Michelle blinked in confusion. "No, someone donated it to the school."

"Donated? Do you know who?"

"Uh, yeah." Michelle hesitated, her face scrunching up as she thought. "I think … I think it was Rita Johnson? She has a son over at the middle school — I-I used to babysit for them when he was really young." She shivered, and the handcuffs around her wrist clinked. "Is … Is Mr. Evans okay?"

"He'll be fine, don't you worry." Donna gently undid the handcuffs. "Do you need a ride home?" She nodded up towards Alex and the Winchesters. "You guys can go. I've got this."

"Alright, just make sure to bring us the rest of the costume." Alex stepped back, flicking her wings as she let the brothers take the lead. Once they were out of earshot, she lengthened her step to walk at Dean's side. "So the costume didn't come from the thrift store, which means …"

"Which means who knows how many are out there." Dean's scowl was barely visible through the darkness. "Great. At least we have a name. Rita Johnson. She can't be too hard to find." He dug the list out of his pocket, the paper crinkling as he held it up to try and make out the words in the dim light. "I'll send Donna the list. Maybe she can help us round up the rest of these."

"The real question is why is this ghost going after these people?" Alex added, circling around to her side of the Impala. "I mean, it has to be choosing its victims somehow, and it doesn't seem to have anything to do with the people its possessing."

She tossed the jester mask into the cardboard box with the other costumes as Sam added, "Which means Coach Evans is in trouble." He slid into the front seat, and Alex and Dean followed. "I'll call the hospital and see when he's out of surgery. Then how about Alex and I stand watch at the hospital. Just in case someone else comes to finish the job."

"Good idea," Dean agreed. "You do that, and then I'll drop the two of you off." He started the car, slinging his arm over the back of the seat. "But first, let's burn those fuckers, huh? No better way to end a long day than with a big old fire."

...

 **"H** ey, Sam." Alex stepped into the hospital room, her wings stretched out slightly to help her balance the sandwich and drink in her hands. Sam was seated in a chair at the far end of the room, his narrow face darkened pensively as he stared out the window. He turned his head at the sound of her voice. "They only had ham. I hope that's okay." She set the food down on the small white table beside the hospital bed, and she looked down at the unconscious form of Coach Evans. "How's he doing?"

"No progress from what I've heard. And yeah, that's fine." Sam rose to his feet with a weary shake of his head. "Are you sure there's nothing you can do?"

"I'm sorry. I've done what I can." Alex circled around to the side of the bed, reaching out to place her hand on the man's arm. "I'm not a full angel, and my grace … it hasn't been the same since the fall. Factor in this eye injury and Crowley's deal — there's only so much I can do."

"It's okay." A warm hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Alex looked up into Sam's soft face. "I get it. You don't have to apologize." He picked up his lunch and returned to his chair, and Alex followed him over to look out the window at the street below. "Oh, Dean called. He and Donna just met with Rita Johnson."

"And?"

"The costumes belonged to her brother Chester. He worked as a performer for parties — hence all of the different costumes. He jumped off a bridge a few months back. The official story is suicide." Sam cracked open his water bottle with a nod towards the unconscious football coach. "Rita also didn't think that Chester knew either Stan or Phil. Oh, and, uh, Dean said he and Donna are on their way to go burn the rest of that jester costume, so we don't have to worry about that."

"Great." Alex's feathers ruffled at the news. "That must mean there's no bones if they're still burning costumes."

"Cremated," Sam agreed. "But on the bright side, Rita gave us a new list of costumes to round up, and Dean's going to go talk to Chester's widow."

"Well, we're stuck here for now." Alex glanced over at the comatose coach with a shake of her head. "The ghost is bound to know that Evans isn't dead, and then he'll be coming." She pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time, and she sighed. "I hope."

"Hey, uh, how's the eye?" Sam asked, and Alex turned around, her wings twitching in surprise.

"It's fine. I … I think I'm making progress." She shrugged as she reached up to feel around her eye, swallowing back the nervousness that always arose when she couldn't see her fingers. "I mean, on the bright side, I look pretty badass. Downside is —"

"You can't see?"

"Yeah. I can't see. But I'll manage." Alex dropped down into the chair across from Sam, her wings drawing up tight. "It's not like I'm often fighting for my life around here. Hopefully, given a couple normal hunts like this, I'll be adjusted enough to take on anything." She forced a toothy grin which faded when Sam didn't share in her amusement. Her grace rose up within her to tie a knot around her mind before she spoke again. "I just don't like the way Cas looks at me. He still thinks this was somehow his fault. It's not like I didn't have this coming."

Sam heaved a sigh. "Pip … it was an accident."

"I killed his mom. I deserved it." Alex's head snapped to the side at the sound of approaching footsteps, and she rubbed her hands on the side of her thighs, the callouses on her fingers catching on the worn denim.

"What is it?" Sam leaned forward in his seat, his eyes sharpening as he looked towards the open door. "A ghost?"

"I can't tell. I hear boots, though. Heavy steel-toed ones." She hurried over to the door to peer up and down the halls. A figure approached from the stairs, dressed in a brightly-colored clown costume, and the angel ducked back into the room with a scowl. "Someone's here … and you're not going to like the costume they chose."

"What do you mean?" Sam stood up, his fists clenching defensively at his side as he circled around to stand between the door and Phil Evans. "Can you … can you take care of it?"

"Easily." Alex nodded towards the door as she moved back to stand at Sam's side. "Just … can you close the door when he comes in? I don't want anyone stopping by unannounced." Her eye turned around the room, landing momentarily on the window before she dismissed it with a shake of her head. "Careful. He's probably armed."

She ignored Sam's scoff at the warning. "Yeah. Thanks … fuck." The curse was muttered under Sam's breath as the clown stepped into the doorway, and Alex's wings lifted in warning as the unseen eyes turned past them to land on the unconscious man on the bed. A scalpel glinted in his hand, and Alex had to turn her head slightly so she could keep the clown in her sights as he stepped forward.

The door clicked closed, and she shifted to the side, one hand extended to defend herself in case the clown made a sudden move. "This might hurt," she warned, and she reached out to grab the wrist that held the blade. The clown jerked back, and Alex forced her grace out to expel the ghost before it broke free of her grasp. She felt the spirit flee, and the man tripped, falling backwards towards the floor.

Sam was there to catch him, yanking the mask off and tossing it to the side. Beneath the mask lay an elderly gentleman, his pale eyes glazing over. "Hey." Sam staggered slightly under the dead weight. "What did you do, kill him?"

"No!" Alex pulled her grace back and dropped his wrist, her voice sharp and adamant. "Of course not. Get him into that chair." She glanced down towards the discarded clown mask with a barely-concealed scowl. "At least we can check 'clown' off of the list."

Sam didn't answer, too focused on situating the elderly man into his chair, and Alex flicked a wing in confusion; she hadn't hurt him, had she? "He's alive." Sam pressed two fingers up against the man's neck, his lips pursed as he searched for a pulse. "Definitely alive," he confirmed after a moment. "I think he'll be fine."

The door suddenly swung open, and Alex spun around, her fingers clenched and grace poised to draw her weapon. Donna Hanscum stood in the doorway, a bright smile on her face that quickly faltered as she took in the scene in front of her. "Cheese and crackers!" she exclaimed. "What happened here?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle." Alex forced the tension to leave her shoulders, and her eye flickered past Donna to land on Officer Stover. "Hey, Doug," she greeted. "How's it going?"

"It's going good." Doug peered into the room, his face dark with confusion. "I was just on my way to Woodbury to pick up a woodpecker costume, but I thought I'd swing by to see how Phil's doing. Looks like Donna here had the same idea." He smiled as he looked over at the sheriff, but Donna didn't even glance towards him, and the smile faltered. "What are you agents doing here?"

"We're, uh …" Alex hesitated as she thought, and Sam quickly took over. "We're just keeping an eye on Evans," he promised. "Just in case …"

"In case any copycat killers might want to finish the job," Donna finished, and Alex winced at the absurd idea.

"You … you think there'll be a-a copycat of a copycat?" Doug repeated.

Donna scoffed loudly. "Come on, Doug," she snapped. "It's not that hard to wrap your noggin around, is it?" She rolled her eyes, and Alex squared her jaw at the way Doug winced at the harsh tone.

He dropped his eyes to the ground, and when he spoke, his voice was subdued. "Whatever you say, Sheriff. I'm gonna go get the woodpecker." He hurried away, and Donna closed the door behind her, shaking her head impatiently.

Sam stepped away from the older man's side, his arms crossed as he turned to face the woman. "What's your deal? Why don't you cut the guy a break, huh? I mean, I wouldn't be buying what you're selling, either."

"I don't have time for insubordination." Donna mimicked him, crossing her arms as she lifted her chin defiantly, and Sam's eyes darkened.

"Or is it maybe that you're treating new Doug like old Doug and not even giving him a chance?" he suggested.

Donna's head snapped back, eyes wide as if she had been slapped. "You know what I think?" she retorted. "You need to mind your own beeswax. We have a case to solve. And I have costumes to collect." She stalked out of the room, and Alex watched Sam heave a deep sigh.

"Don't worry about her," she murmured, reaching out to put a hand on Sam's arm. "The important thing is that she and Doug are hunting down the rest of the costumes." She heard the old man behind them stir, and she shoved her hands deep into her pocket in search of her phone. "I'll call Dean and let him know that we've got another one, and you can get Bozo here back on his feet."

"Yeah, sounds good." Sam turned away, and Alex quickly hurried out of the room.

Dean answered his phone on the third ring, and Alex planted herself up against one of the hospital walls. "Hey, "she greeted. "The ghost tried to attack Coach Evans, but Sam and I took care of it. We've got the clown costume now."

"Killer clown?" Dean chuckled, and Alex let out a small grin. "You serious? I bet Sam loved that."

"Lucky for him, I did most of the heavy lifting. Hopefully it'll be a while before the ghost's strong enough to possess another costume, and hopefully even longer before someone climbs inside and drives down to the hospital." She waited until Dean echoed her 'hopefully' before she asked, "What about you? You talk to the widow yet?"

"I did. It turns out that Stan and the coach were besties from way back who accused Chester of crossing the line with their kids." Alex heard the Impala engine roar to life. "I guess they didn't want to go to the cops cause they didn't want to embarrass their kids, so they decided to track down Chester themselves. They went to his house and got Rita instead —"

"Wait." Alex cut him off, her brow furrowing. "Sam said Rita told you Chester didn't know the two vics."

"She did. Which means that she lied. Anyways, apparently Rita told them to fuck off, and … well, before they had a chance to confront him, he killed himself. So, it could be a suicide that led to a vengeful spirit, or …"

"Or it wasn't a suicide," Alex finished. "Okay, that makes sense. Sam and I can meet you at Rita's. I think we should talk to her again."

"Took the words right out of my mouth. I'm gonna grab some food and then I'm headed over there. I'll text Sam the address." Alex heard shuffling on the other end of the line as Dean went to hang up, but a quick "Oh!" had him pausing. "I, uh, I have Donna out there collecting the rest of the costumes. Rita gave us an updated list."

"Yeah, she just stopped by here to tell us that." Alex pushed herself off of the wall as she saw the elderly gentleman start down the hall, wobbling unsteadily but growing stronger with each step. "Alright, I gotta go find Sam. We'll see you in a few."

...

 **T** he Impala was already parked against the curb by the time Alex and Sam pulled up to the dark suburban home. A light shone through the drawn curtains in the front room, and Alex followed Sam out of the car, her grace going out to confirm that the Impala was empty. With a shrug, she started up the lawn, her wings folded carefully against her back as she moved towards the front door of Rita Johnson's home. Headlights caught on the pavement, and Alex turned to watch a brown station wagon suddenly pull up into the driveway. The engine died, and the door flung open to reveal a red-haired woman, her round face dark and flustered with confusion and anger. "Excuse me!" She hurried after them, and Alex paused halfway to the door. "Can I help you?"

"Agent Elliot and Kenning." Sam dug around in his jeans for his badge. "You must be Rita Johnson."

Rita's eyes flickered past them to the Impala, and she stiffened. "You're here with Agent Savage, aren't you?" she asked, and when Alex nodded, her lips tightened. She spun around and rushed towards the house and, with a shrug, Alex and Sam followed. The door swung open with a bang, crashing into the coat rack behind it. "I don't appreciate you talking to my son when I am not home," Alex heard Rita snap, and she stepped into the house to see Dean in the living room, seated on the couch next to a dark-haired boy.

Dean rose to his feet, his hands raised in a gesture of innocence. "Hey, we were just trading some card tricks, that's all," he promised, his voice low and soothing, and Rita planted her hands on her hips.

"What are you even doing here?" she asked. "I told you everything I know." Dean's eyebrows lifted, and Rita turned to her son. "Max, go to your room."

The boy hurried past Alex and darted up the stairs, and the angel sidestepped so Sam could close the front door. He crossed over to stand at his brother's side as Rita dropped her purse onto the coffee table. "Look," Sam started, "we know that the coach and Stan confronted you about Chester."

"That is none of your damn business," Rita snapped. "It had nothing to do with any of this."

"It's our business because Stan Hinkle was murdered, and Evans was beaten within an inch of his life." Alex feathers ruffled angrily as she spoke, and Rita's eyes flashed in surprise. "And believe it or not, your brother is connected somehow."

The surprise intensified before it darkened into disbelief. "How? Chester is dead. He killed himself."

"You sure about that?" Dean challenged, and when Rita's face paled, Sam added in a softer tone, "Look, we need to know the truth. People's lives are at stake here."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, and he folded his arms across his broad chest. "Maybe yours, maybe Max's."

Rita hesitated, and Alex watched as her jaw trembled slightly before she gave in and spoke. "Okay. Okay." She sank down into the chair, and Dean and Sam sat down upon the couch, leaving Alex to perch herself on the corner of the end table. "Okay. A couple months ago, Stan and the coach came by. They said that Chester was with their kids and did something … inappropriate. I got defensive. I mean … Chester was sweet, like a dad to Max. So I told them to get lost. If they had a problem with Chester, they could go to the cops."

"But they didn't," Sam finished, and Rita nodded.

"They didn't have any evidence. But then, I started to have my doubts. I mean, as much as I wanted to defend my brother, what they said really … got under my skin." She paused, her eyes closing as she suppressed a small shiver. "Chester was always a little … off. Only got along with kids. That's why he became a party performer," she explained when Alex tipped her head. "I spent my whole life sticking up for my brother. But what if I couldn't see him for who he really was? And he and Max were so close. I mean … what if he was hurting him and I didn't know? Chester was my brother, but … Max is my son."

She fell silent, and Alex watched as Sam and Dean exchanged looks. "So you wanted to protect him?" she prompted.

"How could I look the other way?" Rita's hands came up grip the arms of the chair, her nails digging into the soft fabric. "I had to suck it up and face my biggest fear. If not me, then who?" She sighed, the tension leaving her arms as her voice softened. "I should've talked to him. I should've gone to him first. Instead … I called Stan back. And he said they would take care of it. So one day when Chester was working, I told them where he was."

The tension returned, her nails digging in until her knuckles turned white, and Rita suddenly pulled her hands back into her lap, her eyes dropping down to watch them play with the hem of her shirt. Sam leaned forward, and the couch springs creaked under his weight. "What happened?" he asked, and when Rita lifted her head, tears caught in the lamplight.

"They promised me that they weren't gonna hurt Chester — they were just gonna scare him a bit. And I thought, you know, maybe a good scare … maybe that's all he needs." She fell silent again, her jaw tightening as she worked up the courage to speak. "They didn't mean to kill him," she finally murmured. "They — they said … that it was an accident. But I wasn't there, so I didn't know what to believe. And I wanted to go to the cops and explain what happened, but Stan said that we'd all go to jail. And I couldn't do that to Max." Rita's eyes wandered back towards the stairs. "He already lost his father and his uncle. And … he couldn't lose me, too. So I … I didn't say anything." She turned back to face Sam and Dean, and her voice grew stronger. "Fear cripples you. It makes you do nothing. Or worse … it makes you do something that you regret. I should've trusted my brother."

She fell silent once again, and this time it was broken by the ringing of Sam's phone. "Sorry," he apologized as he stood up, and Alex leaned forward curiously as he answered it. "Hi. How's it going?" He stepped aside so Dean could push past him, circling around the chair so he could peer out the front window towards the street.

"Tracked down every last costume," Alex heard Donna say. "So now we just let 'em burn down?"

"Yeah, that's all. Thanks a lot, Donna —" Sam suddenly cut off, and Alex's head snapped up as he went rigid. The line beeped as Donna hung up, and Alex jumped to her feet as Dean let out a quiet "Oh god."

Max stood at the bottom of the stairs, his head obscured by a matted brown deer mask. Her grace rose up to see the ghostly figure, a tall man that occupied the same air as Max. He was staring at Dean, his head cocked slightly to the side. "What?" Alex's wings flapped twice as she slipped past the Winchesters. "A deer head? That wasn't on the list."

"Hey, now," Dean started, but Max lashed out. His fist connected with Dean's shoulder, and Rita jumped back with a scream as the force of the blow sent Dean flying backwards. He hit the ground, his skull cracking against the end table.

"Hey!" Alex rushed forward, sidestepping a second fist that barely missed her ribs. She reached out, but the ghost was prepared, pulling back to avoid her grasp before lunging forward. An invisible fist suddenly connected with the left side of her jaw, and Alex bit back a yelp of surprise. She swiveled her head around to watch the ghost with her good eye, her wings rising in anger at how easily he had landed the punch.

Sam lunged forward, tackling Max to the ground, and Alex hesitated only a second before she followed, grabbing onto the boy's leg and forcing the ghost out. The deer head fell away, bouncing on the hardwood floors. "Max? Max!" Rita's shouts rose above the clamor, and Alex scrambled after the deer head. "What are you doing?"

"Hey!" That was Dean, and Alex turned her head to watch him push himself up on unsteady feet. "Burn it now! I got them."

"Come on." Alex nudged Sam's calves as she rushed past, throwing open the front door to beeline towards the Impala. She heard the door swing closed after her, and she tossed the deer head onto the pavement in disgust. "Stupid ghosts," she hissed, rubbing at her jaw. "Stupid eye."

"You okay?" Sam paused to look down at her, concern glinting in his eyes, but Alex shook his worry off.

"I'm fine. Let's just burn this fucker." She circled around to the trunk, which popped open with a brush of her grace. "Here." She tossed Sam the box of salt, but it clattered to the pavement. "Sam?"

The Winchester was on the ground. A ghostly figure was straddling him, his hands digging into Sam's throat as the hunter scrabble for purchase on the lawn. "Sam?" Alex threw herself forward, but the ghost flickered out, and Alex collided into Sam's chest. She heard him grunt in pain and surprise, and she scrambled away with a rushed, "Sorry!" Her wings rose as she lifted her grace, scouring the yard for Chester.

A blow came to her blind side, and Alex hit the ground with a thud. She rolled away from the punch, head whipping from side to side as she jumped to her feet. Her grace snaked out, churning through the air where she couldn't see.

She felt a cold ripple to her left, and she spun around, ducking a fist that flashed past her head and parrying with her own blow. It landed in empty air as the ghost disappeared. "Where … where'd he go?" Sam's voice scratched in his throat, and Alex spun around in search of Chester.

There. "He's headed towards the house." Alex jumped over Sam, her feet landing on the pavement next to the Impala as she rushed towards the trunk. "This has got to be the last costume if he's fighting us this hard."

"Go after him." Sam pushed himself up, brushing off her help when Alex reached out to steady him. "Don't let him get to Rita. I'm good out here."

Alex hesitated for only a second before she bolted for the front door. It slammed shut behind her the second she stepped into the living room, and Alex slid to a stop, her eye stretched wide to take in the scene before her. Rita and Max stood by the fireplace, kept safe by a hastily laid circle of salt. Dean was nowhere in sight, but a low groan from beyond the broken dining room doors gave away his location. "Dean?" Alex took one step in his direction, but a chill against her grace had her pulling to the left.

A hand shot past her head, and Alex twisted out of the way as Chester tried to grab a hold of her shirt. An iron poker lay on the ground, and she dove towards it, rolling with her shoulder as she hit the ground. "Uncle Chester, no!" She heard Max's desperate cry as she rolled onto her feet, and her wings stretched out to steady her as she spun on her heels, the iron weapon stretching out to defend herself from the ghost.

Chester was standing two steps away, frozen to the spot, and Alex squinted as he erupted into flames. She could feel the heat licking at her wings, and she drew them back as the flames grew until they finally snapped out of existence.

The room had fallen silent, the quiet only broken when Alex let the iron rod clatter to the ground. "Dean?" She called out the hunter's name, worry tinging her voice. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Dean stepped past the broken glass that had fallen from the shattered door, and he scowled as he rubbed at his temple. "How are you feeling?"

"Never better." Alex straightened up with a shrug, shaking out her wings with a roll of her shoulders. Dean's eyes flitted past her, and she glanced over her shoulder towards Rita and Max. "I'll go see how Sam's doing," she mumbled under her breath, and she slipped outside before Dean could protest.

She almost ran face-first into Sam, who reeled back in surprise. "Sorry," he apologized, and he glanced past her towards the home. "Is everyone okay? I — I burned the mask."

"Yeah, everyone's fine." Alex sidestepped the Winchester to peer towards the driveway where the smoldering remains of the deer head glowed in the gathering night. "Dean took a bad fall, but no one was seriously hurt …" She trailed off as police sirens screamed in the distance, and she watched as a cop car sped up the street, the tires squealing as it pulled to a stop beside the Impala. "Look who it is."

Donna jumped out of the passenger seat, followed more slowly by Doug Stover. "What the heck happened here? You found another one, eh?" She looked down at the glowing embers that decorated the charred deer head.

"It's nothing we couldn't handle," Alex promised. "Chester —" She cut off with a quick glance toward Doug, and she quickly corrected, "Everything's taken care of. I don't think you'll be having any more issues."

"Ah." Donna gave a faint upwards nod of her head, her blue eyes narrowing slightly to show that she understood Alex's cryptic message. "You don't hafta be discreet, though. Doug's on the in."

"Oh." Alex exchanged a quick look with Sam, who just gave a heavy shrug of his shoulders. "Well, uh, Dean and the Johnsons are inside. They're probably a bit shaken up after … you know, seeing the ghost of their dead relative try and beat the shit out of us."

Dean appeared in the doorway, his green eyes lighting up at the sight of Donna Hanscum. "About time you got here," he half-joked, waving them inside, and Alex took up the rear, shutting the front door behind them. "You just missed the action."

Rita and Max were seated on the couch, and Doug crossed over to join them, his voice low as he spoke with Rita. His quiet words were drown out by Sam. "Chester's spirit is finally at rest," he promised Donna. "You shouldn't have any more trouble with him." Dean nodded in agreement, and Sam shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I, uh, I think it's time that we gotta get out of here. Is there anything else you need?"

Donna shook her head. "I can handle everything from here," she promised. "Here's to hoping something less murderous brings you back to Minnesota. Like Prince or cheese curd fest."

"You had me at 'curd,' " Dean joked, and Donna smiled, but the grin quickly faded away.

"I-I don't know how you three do this, day in day out," she admitted quietly. "Figuring out who's possessed, who isn't. Your life is one big poop storm, isn't it?"

"It gets easier," Alex promised as Dean simultaneously added, "Spoken like a true hunter."

Donna's face lit up at his words, and she straightened up at the Winchester's praise. "Really? Hunter?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam agreed, exchanging an amused glance with his brother. "I mean, with three cases under your belt, I think you've earned it." His sentence was cut short as Donna threw her arms around him, pulling the tall hunter into a hug, and Alex managed a laugh before she was similarly pulled into a tight embrace by the sheriff.

The hug lasted mere seconds before Donna moved on, and Dean patted her on the back as he received the same treatment. "There we go." He gently extracted himself from Donna's hold. "We gotta get going, okay?"

"Okay. And thank you. Bye." Donna grinned as she waved them off, and Alex echoed the bothers' farewells as she followed them out of the house and over to the Impala.

"So, what's the plan?" she heard Dean ask as he dug around for his keys, and she glanced up towards the night sky as she waited for the car to unlock. "Should we grab some post-hunt drinks and then crash at the motel for the night?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted." Sam slid into the front seat, and Dean followed without a word. "I think we should just head back to the bunker. What do you think, Pip? Pip?"

"Huh?" Alex blinked at the sound of her name, and she shook off her thoughts as she tore her gaze away from the sky. "Um, yeah. Yeah. Driving back sounds good for me." She pulled open the car door and hesitated, her grace still stretched out along her left side. With a reluctant sigh, she pulled it back into her body and climbed into the backseat. "Whatever you guys want is fine," she added distantly, and as soon as she closed the door behind her, the Impala started off down the road.

...

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **D** arkness surrounded her, pressing in on every side. Alex drew in a deep breath, slowing her heartbeat and calming her nerves before she clenched her fists and opened up her eyes. The world came into focus, and with it Sam, dressed in only a thin t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts. Sweat glistened on his face, but when he spoke, his voice was strong. "You sure you want to go again?"

"I'm sure." Alex's grace prickled out from her body, and she angled her head slightly as Sam took a step to her left. "Whenever you're ready." She fell into a defensive posture, one foot set slightly back, and she rocked up onto the balls of her feet as she saw Sam tense.

The first blow was easy to see coming; the Winchester telegraphed his intentions as he wound up for the punch, and Alex easily sidestepped the attack. She added a quick jab to his lower ribs and was rewarded by a low grunt. "Stop playing easy," she teased. "I can take it."

Two more punches came in quick succession, followed by an attempted sweep, and Alex almost tripped as she hopped away, barely bringing her foot up in time to avoid having her leg knocked out from under her. She didn't see the hook coming from her blind side, but her grace felt it, and Alex whipped her head back, her arm flying up to knock the blow away. "Hey, that was good." Sam retreated a few steps, his fists loosening, and Alex reluctantly let her own hands fall back to her side. "I think you're getting the hang of that."

"It's easy once I know what to feel for," she half-bragged, thankful that her cheeks were already flushed with exertion lest the Winchester see that she blushed under his praise. "Give me another hour or two of practice and I could kick ass without either of my eyes."

Sam chuckled, and Alex sidestepped to let him pass as he crossed over to the far edge of the mat. "Let's hope that doesn't happen." He bent down to pick up his water bottle, adding as he unscrewed the lid, "Is Cas here yet? I thought I heard the door open downstairs."

"He is." Alex felt out for her mate along her grace, and she couldn't help but let her wings fall slightly. "He's downstairs with Dean. I'm guessing we're done here?"

"He might have found something important." Sam wiped the sweat off of his face with a white towel, and Alex watched as he slung it over his shoulder as he set off towards the stairs. He paused at the door, glancing backwards. "You coming?"

"Right behind you." Alex followed him down the bunker stairs and towards the library, her toes curling at the cold tile beneath her bare feet. Just as she had said, Castiel was in the library with Dean. His battered navy wings hung loosely at his back, and Alex felt her heart thud eagerly in her chest at the sight of new feathers along the crest. They were small and dense, appearing almost black against the older blue vanes, but they were new.

She felt Castiel's grace press up against hers, and he turned to greet her with a quick nod, his wings curled forward in a gentle greeting. Alex stepped forward to return the gesture, brushing her own feathers across his before she crossed over to drop down in the seat next to Dean. She glanced up towards Castiel's face, but the seraph only briefly held her gaze, his eyes quickly dropping away. "Hey." Sam noticed none of the interaction, and Alex lowered her eye into her lap as he leaned up against the table beside her. "How was Gaza?"

"Hot. Arid." Castiel motioned down to a pile of leather-bound books and scrolls. "The people there were surprisingly unhelpful, but I collected what I thought might be relevant." He stepped aside so Sam could start digging through the literature, and he added, "One of the angels suggested that I go to Alexandria. Apparently they too have amassed a sizable collection of old manuscripts."

The frustration in his voice was clear, and Alex shifted in her chair. "Do you … do you think it's worth your time?" she finally asked, lifting her head to look at her mate. "You don't sound very confident."

Dean scoffed, and Castiel shook his head. "Anything that could tell us more about the Darkness is worth my time," he said. "It's just … I don't like being away from you. Not with …"

He trailed off, but his meaning was made clear, and Alex frowned. "Cas, I'm going to be fine. You don't have to keep worrying about me." She leaned back in her chair so she could draw her legs up underneath her with a roll of her eyes. "If you — just ask Sam. Him and I were upstairs sparring right now. I-I can hold my own, can't I, Sam?"

Sam gave a start at the sound of his name, and he looked up from a book with a quick cough. "I — what?" He glanced between Alex and Castiel, and he cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. You were great." He straightened up and turned to face Castiel. "Listen, Cas, I know you're worried, but we'll keep her safe."

He glanced over at Dean for support, but the eldest Winchester was already flipping through another book. "Hey, Cas, can I talk to you in private?" Alex stood up and motioned her mate after her, leading him out of the library and down the hall towards the kitchen, stopping only once they were out of earshot. "Cas —"

"Alex." Castiel cut her off, and Alex felt silent with a tight frown. "This … _this_ isn't because I don't think you can't protect yourself. I know you're perfectly capable of holding your own."

"Okay." Alex folded her arms across her chest, her wings rising in the hint of anger. "Then what exactly is it? Because you've been looking at me weird ever since I got back from Nebraska, and you can't tell me it's not because of this." She pointed towards her blind eye, her scowl darkening as she felt Castiel's grace flinch.

"It isn't about that." Castiel's wings flitted, and he let out a controlled breath through his nose. "We only have eight months left —"

" _I_ only have eight months."

"— until your deal is up." Castiel ignored her interruption, and Alex frowned. "I don't … I don't know if you should be wasting your time like this when you should be focused on finding a way to break your deal. You should come with me to Alexandria. There may be information—"

"I — I can't break the deal, Cas. Crowley won't let me, remember?" Alex felt her deal press up against her grace, and her eyes flashed a dark blue. "And I told you before that I don't want you to do it, either! Don't you see? We're running in the same damn perpetual circle as Sam and Dean. I sacrificed myself to save you, you want to do the same — where does it stop, huh? You — you know where it got them? They started the _apocalypse_ , Castiel. They let out Lucifer. How long until you and I do something similar?" Castiel opened his mouth, but a shout of her name had Alex's face darkening. "If you need to go to Alexandria, go to Alexandria. But I'm staying here." She pushed past Castiel with a shake of her head, their shoulders brushing none too gently. She could feel his gaze lingering on her back as she stalked down the hallway, and she hesitated, but when no protest came, Alex stepped out of sight.


	30. Just My Imagination

**December 15th, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** sound came from somewhere in the bunker, and Alex's eyes flickered open. She was in the library, her head planted in the crook of her arm, and she lifted it with a groan, rolling her head around as she pushed away the old book that she had fallen asleep on. The noise came again, and the angel stretched out her grace in search of the source. Sam. She could hear his footsteps, a barely-there _slap_ as he walked barefoot down the hall. He was coming this way. Alex shook out her wings, chasing away the last of the sleep that clung to her just as the Winchester stepped into the war room. His hazel eyes immediately turned onto her, and Alex slung an arm across the back of her chair so she could twist and face him. "Morning, tiger," she called. "What are you doing up at …" She glanced down at her phone, and she gave a small start. "Six thirty? It's already that late?"

Sam chuckled at her surprise, and he ascended the stairs to join her in the library. "Yeah. You been up all night?"

"Mostly. I took a power nap at some point." Alex watched as the Winchester stifled a yawn, and her good eye flickered across his wrinkled shirt and messy hair. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to sleep in a bit. No offense, but you look like shit."

She flashed him a grin, and Sam rolled his eyes at the joke. "You're one to talk." His gaze fell down onto the open book in front of her, and the humor died. "Did you find anything?"

"Nothing." Alex shoved the book away with a disheartened scowl. "I, uh, looked through the stuff you and Dean couldn't — you know, the stuff that's in Aramaic and whatnot — but I couldn't find anything that even mentioned the Darkness. Not that it's surprising, I guess," she added after a second. "I mean, not even Cas knew about her, so I don't know why a bunch of old dead guys would."

"I guess." Sam's shoulders fell, and Alex stretched out a wing in his direction, a comforting gesture that went unseen. "Well, there's still a chance Cas will find something in Alexandria. You heard from him yet?"

"Nope," Alex said, biting back the word as it came sharper than she intended. "Then again, we haven't exactly been on the best of terms as of late. Just more of the same stuff," she quickly added, turning her face away to avoid Sam's scrutiny. "Nothing to worry about — I'm sure everything will work out."

She glanced back up towards his face in time to see him hold back another open-mouthed yawn. "If you say so." His eyes darted off towards the hallway. "I'm going to go start a pot of coffee. You want any?"

Alex shook her head, and she turned her attention back down onto her book as Sam walked away. She reached for the next manuscript for her to read — an old, yellowed scroll without a single word in English — but a flitter in the shadows had her head snapping up, her eye stretched wide in search of the source.

A second set of approaching footsteps caught her attention, heavier and slower than Sam's, and Alex pushed the scroll away with a scowl — apparently she wasn't going to get any more work done. "Hey." She turned her head to watch Dean Winchester step into view, dressed in a thick, dark Men of Letters robe. "The hell are you doing up?"

Dean paused, his blurry eyes taking the extra second to find and focus on the angel across the room. "Couldn't sleep," he muttered, and Alex's wings flicked in half-hearted sympathy. "I thought I heard Sam. Where's he?" he added, his words slurring together as he covered a yawn with his fist.

"Kitchen. He's making coffee, if you're interested." Alex jerked a thumb in Sam's general direction before she leaned back in her chair, her arms and wings straining as she stretched. She watched Dean disappear towards the hallway, and she turned back towards her work, but a shout from the kitchen had her pausing.

"Who are you?!" That was Sam, and Alex's head snapped up in surprise, her bleariness gone. That couldn't have been directed at Dean — she could still feel him making his way down the hall. The chair fell backwards as she jumped up, and the next thing she knew, she was bolting down the hallway, her wings streaming out behind her.

Her chest pressed up against the wall as she slipped past Dean, ignoring the surprised curse that he mumbled after her. "Sam?" Alex slowed down to a walk as she neared the kitchen, her grace stretching out to feel for the Winchester. "Everything okay?"

Sam stood in the middle of the kitchen, his feet planted in a defensive stance. His hand was extended, fingers clasped as if he were grasping something, but the only thing there was air. "This can't be happening."

"Dude." Dean's voice came from right behind Alex, and the angel stepped into the room to let the hunter through. "Who are you talking to?"

"Him?" Sam's eyes flickered between Alex, Dean, and the air in front of him, and Alex frowned as she lifted her grace to her good eye. The air around Sam's hand blurred, as it looking through a thick haze, and she tipped her head to the side.

"Are you having a stroke?" she heard Dean ask as he moved past her, and she glanced up at him to see concern on his face, carefully masked by amusement. "Do you smell toast?"

Sam's head swung over to the hazy air, and his fist tightened as his nostrils flared. A low hum came from the haze, and Alex flicked Dean with the tip of her wing. "I think there's something there," she murmured, low enough for only Dean to hear. "I don't know what it is. A ghost?"

Dean didn't hear her. "What is all this shit?" he asked, pointing past Sam to the kitchen table, and Alex blinked back her shock as she finally took in the expansive display of carefully arranged candies and cake. "When did you start eating this stuff? Is — is that marshmallows on nachos?"

Sam scowled, his dark eyes flickering over to the dish in question. "Yeah, that wasn't me."

"It was me." A voice rang through the air, and Alex jumped back as the haze suddenly materialized. A stout man stood there, dressed in a yellow striped shirt and blue jeans held up by bright rainbow suspenders. Alex felt her fingers close around her angel blade before she even knew her grace had summoned the weapon, and her wings flared out in surprise. She felt Dean jump beside her, his muscles tensing. "And those," the man added, pointing towards the nachos, "are delicious."

"W-Wait a second." Sam's head swung between Dean and the stranger, and his jaw squared. "Can you see him?" Dean nodded, and Alex hesitantly did the same, forcing her shoulders to relax as the man only let out a dopey grin. "D-Dean, Alex, this is, um … I think this is …" Sam hesitated, and his face flushed ever so slightly. "This is Sully, my friend from when I was a kid."

Alex blinked, unsure how to even begin to respond, but Dean simply scoffed. "You mean Mork from Ork here is your dumbass imaginary friend Sully?"

Sam nodded, but Sully's warm face soured. "Um, I'm not dumb _or_ ass," he pointed out, childishly folding his arms across his chest.

Alex forced her grace to retract her weapon as Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna get my gun."

He turned to go, but Sully stepped forward, his arms falling back to his side as his voice took on a note of desperation. "No, please," he begged, reaching out for Dean, and the Winchester spun around, his robe whipping through the air as he poised himself to fight the stranger. Sully quickly backed away, retreating to Sam's side. "Please … someone killed my friend."

Sam's eyes darted over to Sully, his brow furrowing in confusion, but Dean only huffed. "You mean your imaginary imaginary friend?" he quipped, and Alex rolled her eyes at the humor.

Indignation flashed across Sully's face, and he straightened up to try and match Dean's towering height. "First off, 'imaginary friend' is more of a descriptive term," he retorted. "How you just said, that was a little … offensive, just to be honest. Secondly, we're Zanna. Me and … me and the victim, we're Zanna."

"Xanax?" Alex repeated, and Dean sniggered.

"Zanna," Sully corrected impatiently. "We — we help kids." His eyes swung up onto Sam. "We're the good guys, Sam. Tell them."

"Yeah, okay." Sam's agreement sounded distant, and Alex shook out her wings so they could lie flat against her back. "Um … you know what, I'm still trying to wrap my head around this whole you being real thing."

"Awww! Yeah, no, no, of course." Sully's voice grew soft, and Alex rolled her eyes at the babying. "No, that's okay, that's okay. This is all really unexpected." He shot Dean a glare as the Winchester muttered something under his breath, but the anger didn't carry into his voice. "Just … I need your help. You're hunters, that's what you do, right? I mean, you help people, too."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "People. _You_ are not that."

Sully's face fell, and Sam's eyes sharpened at his brother's harsh words. "Dean, come on."

" 'Come on?' " Dean repeated. "Are you kidding —" He cut off, his jaw squaring as he gave a slow shake of his head. "Look … this … motherfucker …" He cut off as he drew himself up, whipping his robe shut. "You and me, library now." He stalked away, a faint, "Come on!" rising from the hallway.

Sully moved to follow, but Alex stepped in front of him, blocking him with a hand. "Better just stay here," she warned, shifting aside so Sam could follow after his brother. "We'll be right back."

"You're not actually buying this bullshit, are you?" she heard Dean snap as she stepped out of the kitchen, and she followed after the voices with a roll of her eyes.

"Dean, when I was nine years old, you know what I wanted more than anything else?" Sam's words were quiet, and Alex had to strain to hear, her wings flicking in annoyance at how quickly their morning had turned chaotic. "Marshmallow nachos."

"Yeah, you were a weird-ass kid," Dean agreed, and Alex stepped into the room in time to watch Dean drop down into a library chair.

Sam was standing by one of the cabinets, rifling through the Men of Letters card catalogue. He scowled at the insult, pulling out a yellowed card before slamming the drawer shut. "Yeah, well, the only person I ever told about it …"

"Sully," Dean guessed, and Sam nodded. His eyes flickered over to Alex as she crossed the war room to join them in the library, and Dean followed Sam's gaze before he let out a sigh. "I don't know, man. I …" He trailed off, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought. "Hey, you know, maybe this is just one of your visions."

"Yeah, except we're both seeing it," Sam retorted, and Dean gave a shrug. "And it doesn't involve the Cage or Lucifer, or me having to talk to Lucifer in the Cage." He pulled a thick leather-bound book off of the shelf, glancing over at Alex for confirmation, and when she nodded, his gaze dropped down onto the text.

"So, maybe he actually is a real imaginary friend or a — a Zanna. Is that what he called himself?" Alex joined Dean at the table, propping her head up on an elbow as she watched Sam flip through the pages.

Dean merely scoffed, but Sam gave an enthusiastic nod. "Look at this." He dropped the book down onto the table. "Here." He stabbed his finger onto the page, and Dean leaned forward to read. "In Romanian lore," Sam explained, "Zanna are creatures who guide and protect lost children." He spun the book back towards him so he could further read the entry. "Zanna intentionally appear as figments of a child's imagination, allowing the child to move on with confidence once guidance is no longer necessary. Maybe Sully's telling the truth."

"Okay." The admittance was reluctant, but Dean just shrugged. "Say that Bozo is legit. Which, you know — hello Crazytown, but okay. How is this our problem?"

"Somebody _did_ die," Alex reminded, and two sets of eyes swung onto her. "And if these Zanna are everything that book chalks them up to be, then I'm down with checking it out."

"Some _thing_ died," Dean corrected. Really, Pip? A fairy godmother getting capped? That ain't our beat."

"Come on, Dean. It's not like we stick strictly to humans around here." Alex straightened up in her chair, stretching her arms above her head as she spoke. "Maybe this is just coming from the personal experience of not being human, but I'm down with helping friendly non-people. I just think we should give these guys the benefit of the doubt before we dismiss them. Besides," she added, her hand going out in a sweeping gesture towards the haphazardly scattered scrolls, "we've got nothing on the Darkness here. I think after a week of nothing, a little time out on the town would be fun."

"You don't have to come," Sam added when Dean didn't immediately answer, and Alex watched him frown as his eyes narrowed, the gears spinning in his head. "Me and Alex can cover it."

"Fine. You two go on." Dean reached for one of the ancient books, and Alex rolled her eyes. "There's got to be something here. Plus, Cas should be due back any day from Alexandria. Maybe he'll have something."

"Okay." Alex stood up with a shrug. "I, uh … call us if you find anything." She glanced over at Sam, who mimicked her shrug, his heavy shoulders rising and falling in defeat. "I guess … I guess go get Sully, and we can take my car." She started off towards the hallway, hesitating in case Dean wanted to speak, but the Winchester had already turned his attention down onto his book. With a sigh, Alex slipped off down the hall.

...

 **Carlsbad, New Mexico**

 **T** he engine of the blue Marquis spluttered slightly as Sam pulled the car up alongside the two story suburban house, and Alex ducked her head to peer out the half-cracked window. "Well?" She glanced towards the backseat, her good eye flickering across the zanna that sat there. His eyes were fixated on the home, his face twisted in horror, and Alex turned back to the house. "This the place?"

"It's definitely the place," Sully promised; to his testament, his voice didn't tremble despite the fear in his tone. "It's a horror show in there."

"You — you mean you've been inside?" The engine died, and the leather seats creaked as Sam twisted to look back at Sully.

The zanna's eyes stayed fixed on the second story window, and it took him a second to tear them away to focus on Sam. "Last night," he admitted. He leaned forward to put his head between the two hunters, and Alex sharply drew her wings back. "I'm in management now, so I don't get out in the field much. I just came to see Sparkles."

"S-Sparkles?" The name felt cumbersome on Alex's tongue, and she leaned forward to see past Sully and meet Sam's gaze. "You … have a friend and their name is … Sparkles."

"Yeah." Sully squinted, his head tipping as he studied Alex for the briefest of seconds as if he couldn't understand her confusion. However, the look vanished within a second. "I show up, and I mean, the place was bananas. Kid had called the cops, mom's freaking out, and … Sparkles …" The horror returned to his eyes, and he looked between the two hunters before finally landing on the Winchester. "Sam, it was horrible."

"Okay, so, only the kids can see you, correct?" Alex glanced over at Sam, looking for confirmation, and the hunter nodded. "Which means that the daughter is the only witness to the whole thing." Her grey eye turned onto Sully. "Can you talk to her?"

"I can try." Sully's attention had drifted back onto the house. "Poor thing. I'll meet you inside." He vanished, and Alex tugged on the hem of her blouse before she reached for the car door. "Ready to go in?"

"Right behind you." Sam's fingers deftly buttoned up his brown sweater, head tilted up to study his reflection in the rearview mirror. "Lead the way."

Alex slammed the car door behind her, her wings shaking out as a cool breeze swept past. The sun was still high in the sky, the air warmer than a December should ever be, and she let the warmth wash over her as she waited for Sam to join her on the sidewalk. "So, you had an imaginary friend named Sully, huh?"

"Oh come on." The car groaned as Sam got out, and Alex glanced back at him with a grin. "You mean you didn't have an imaginary friend as a kid?"

"Not to my knowledge. I thought my stuffed dog was real, though, but I doubt Jack was a zanna," she added, laughing as she spoke. She led the way up to the front porch, digging around in the pockets of her slacks for her wallet.

Sam echoed her quiet laugh, and Alex looked up into his face. "You named your stuffed dog Jack?" he teased.

"Yeah! After the dog from Little House on the Prairie? You never read those books?" Alex let out a mock gasp as Sam shook his head, and she clicked her tongue in disappointment. "My mom read them to me when I was little. She was a big reader." She reached out to ring the doorbell as she spoke, falling quiet as she listened for the bell.

Footsteps approached, and Alex straightened her back as they paused just on the other side of the door. She stepped back to Sam's side as it swung open, revealing a woman only a few years older than Sam. Her face was pale and aged with stress, and she looked between the two hunters with weary eyes. "Can I help you?"

"Mrs. Berman, I'm Dr. Strummer." Sam held out his identification, and Alex reached into her pocket to find her own as Sam motioned over to her. "This is my associate."

"Dr. Clarke." She plastered on a smile as Mrs. Berman's face darkened. "We're trauma counselors with child services. We're just here to follow up on a police report that was filed yesterday…" She trailed off when Mrs. Berman's eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed red as the woman's gaze focused on her left eye. "W-We're just here to check up," she stammered.

"Oh." With some great difficulty, Mrs. Berman tore her gaze away from Alex as Sam cleared his throat. "That was … come in." She held the door open and motioned them inside, her attention dropping down onto the floor. Sam motioned for Alex to go first, his hand coming to rest on her back in a small, comforting gesture, and the angel stepped across the threshold with a murmured, "Thanks." She let her grace slip out through the house, feeling along for anything unusual. "My daughter Maddie, she's the one who called," Mrs. Berman explained, and Alex heard the door click shut behind Sam. "Uh, she has an active imagination. She made up this unicorn man, Sparkles. But, um, she thinks he's dead. In her room."

She motioned up the stairs, and Alex peered up towards the second floor as Sam asked, "So, Sparkles is a unicorn and — and also a man?"

"A manicorn," Alex corrected absently, her grace already feeling out for Maddie and Sully. She turned her attention back onto the two people in front of her when Sam cleared his throat, and she quickly blinked out her apology. "Do you mind if we have a look at the room?"

"The room?" Mrs. Berman couldn't hold back her surprise, and Alex gave a firm nod. "I suppose." She waved them up the stairs, and Alex fell in line behind Sam. "It's been her room since she was a baby. She loved this room. And then last night …" Mrs. Berman sighed as she paused beside a closed door. "Maddie won't even go in here anymore. 'The blood,' she keeps saying."

The door swung open to reveal a bright bedroom, the white walls covered with drawings of flowers. Pink satin curtains were hung in the windows, a perfect match to the equally pink beanbag in the far corner. "Do you mind if we take a look around?"

The woman nodded in agreement with Sam's question. "Sure. I … I'll be right back." She disappeared, and Alex waited until the footsteps had faded away before she stepped into the bedroom after Sam.

"Okay, well, I don't see anything." Alex flicked her grace around, frowning when it found nothing. "I don't — am I supposed to see something?" Something caught in the corner of her eye, a faint, dusty haze, and she fell silent with a thin frown. "There might be something there." She pointed towards the beanbag, but her hand jerked back as Sully suddenly appeared in front of her. "Dammit!" She hissed out the curse, casting a quick look around to make sure Mrs. Berman was not around.

"Don't worry, she can't see me." Sully glanced over his shoulder, and he suppressed a shiver. "I told you it was horrible."

Alex felt Sam's eyes turn down onto her, and she shrugged, unsure what the zanna was referring to. "Do you, uh, do you mind enlightening us?" she heard Sam ask, and Sully's eyes widened.

"Oh." He lifted his hands, fingers poised over Sam's forehead. "If I show you all we can see, you can't tell a soul," he warned as he pressed his fingertips between Sam's eyes, and Alex's wings flicked impatiently as she awaited her turn. Sully's eyes darkened as he turned to Alex, unsure how to proceed, and Alex held out her hand.

"Let me see what I can do." She reached down to take the zanna's wrist when he hesitated, and she let her grace probe against him, pulsing slowly as it searched. "Different things exist on different … planes," she murmured, speeding her grace up as she spoke. "I just have to tune into the right frequency, if you will." She felt the zanna's skin hum, and she closed her eyes as she compelled her grace to move along with the irregular buzzing. "Weird —" The quiet observation died in her throat as she opened her eyes. "Oh."

The once white room was now stained in blood, a deep crimson that sunk into the walls and carpet. The drops and splatters all pointed towards the pink beanbag, now red, and Alex's eyes finally landed on the body that lay collapsed there. At first, it appeared to be a man, dressed in a yellow, furry coat, but Alex's nose wrinkled in confusion as she noticed the long, blue horn that extended from his forehead and the two large hooves that protruded right where his hands should have been. "Oh. That …"

"W-Wait a second." Sam spoke up when Alex trailed off, unsure what else to say. "So his … his blood is glittery?"

Alex knelt down, her confusion only deepening to see that Sam's words rang true. The thick, congealing blood shimmered in the afternoon sun, decorated with flecks of golden color. "Even when he's dead, Sparkles can't stop shining." Sully's voice cracked, and Alex's teeth dug into her lip to stop herself from chuckling at the pained comment. "Who would do this?"

"It looks like a stab wound." Alex pushed herself back to her feet, eyes narrowed as she studied the corpse from a distance. "Do, uh, do regular knives kill zanna?"

"No, it — it would have to be a special blade, but … only zanna know that other zanna exist. And a zanna could never do this—"

"Nothing to see, right?" Mrs. Berman spoke over Sully's last words as she stepped into the room, and Alex rolled her shoulders back as she straightened up fully, reluctant to let her eyes slip back onto the corpse in the corner. "I was always under the impression that it was a parents job to let a child be a child as long as possible."

She crossed over to the window, her feet squishing through the thick, shimmering blood, and Alex watched Sully flinch. "Oh, this is bad," he murmured, his hands going up to cover his face.

"Maybe we let her get too carried away," the woman continued. "I don't know, I mean …" She stooped to pick up a blood-soaked stuffed elephant, holding it in her hands as she contemplated her next words. "An imaginary friend named Sparkles. What's cuter than that?" She set the elephant down, turning to the two hunters in search of an answer, but Alex barely heard, her attention fully on where Mrs. Berman's bloody hand had come up to rub at her forehead, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry. I'm being as dramatic as my daughter now."

"It's on her face." Sully's voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. "Sam, it's on her face!"

"Just tell me —"

"She's got Sparkles on her face!" Alex snapped out her wing as Sully's voice rose, and the zanna jumped back in shock as the broken primaries caught him across the shoulder. The room had fallen silent, and Alex quickly turned her eyes back onto Mrs. Berman, surprised to find that the woman's eyes were on them, her gaze flickering between the two hunters in hopes of an answer. "Somebody's gotta say something." Sully's horror was slowly being replaced by panic. "Someone's gotta say something."

"Y-You know what," Sam finally said, stuttering slightly as he regained his composure, "is there a spare bedroom?" Mrs. Berman nodded, running her hand down the side of her face, and Alex tightened her jaw at the blood streak it left behind. "Great. Maybe Maddie can sleep in there. That should help."

"A-And a shower," Alex added. "That's always a great way to r-relax, take off the stress."

"A real deep scrub," Sam agreed, and Alex cleared her throat, hoping her own voice didn't sound as breathy and shocked as his. "Purify."

"For … Maddie?"

"Uh, yeah." Alex gave a quick, hasty nod. "For Maddie, for you. Just … just get everybody in there. I mean, the family that showers together —" She quickly snapped her mouth shut, her wings flapping once to try and cover her mistake.

Mrs. Berman's eyes had gone wide, and Alex glanced up at Sam when the Winchester awkwardly cleared his throat. "You know — you know what, why don't you start there?" he suggested. "You can contact our office for more guidance if you like."

"Okay?" The quiet acquiescence was barely heard as Sully ushered them out of the room, and Alex set her pace to match Sam's as they hurriedly exited the house.

"That went well." Sam finally spoke again once he had closed the front door behind him, and Alex jumped down off of the porch, shaking out her wings to hide her embarrassment. " 'The family that showers together'? You sound like Dean."

Alex scowled at the amusement in his tone. "I do not!" she retorted. "Come on, Sam. She had Sparkle blood all over her face. I think a shower was her top priority." She circled around to the passenger side of the Marquis with a roll of her eyes. "Pretty sure today's going up towards the top of the weirdest things I've ever seen. A manicorn." Alex slid into her seat with a small laugh. "Dean's going to be jealous."

"I suppose that's what he gets for staying behind." Sam climbed into the seat next to her and started the car; a quick glance towards the backseat showed that Sully had joined them.

Alex reached out to pat the dashboard as the engine spluttered slightly before catching. "So what's the plan?"

"Well, I … I suppose we go find a motel for the night and see what we can find about zanna, I guess." Sam shrugged, his eyes flitting into the mirror to meet Sully's gaze. "I think the first step's to get changed and then get some food. That good with you?"

He turned to glance over at Alex, and the angel laughed. "I dunno. I'm kind of digging the Mr. Roger's vibe you got going," she teased, reaching over to tug slightly on the thin brown sweater. Sam rolled his eyes, brushing her hand away, and Alex turned her good eye back onto the road.

"Maybe there's something out there about a weapon that can kill them," he suggested. "You don't — you don't think it was an angel blade?"

"I didn't get a good look, but I don't think it was. Sparkles was slaughtered." Alex ignored Sully's small, barely-audible gasp. "An angel blade would have killed him on the first blow. This is something else." She sighed as she reached for her seatbelt. "How about we talk about this over dinner? There's nothing else for us to do here." Sam nodded, and Alex settled down into her seat as the Marquis pulled out onto the street and drove away from the house.

...

 **"O** kay, so what exactly are we doing here?" Alex slammed the Marquis door behind her, her eyes turned towards the small rambler that stood in front of the car. The garage door was closed, and the lights were off, but Alex still stretched her grace out, feeling for any sign of human life.

"Nicky didn't check in with the home office last night." Sully followed her out of the car, his eyes darting around nervously. "This — this can't be happening."

"Check in?" Alex circled around to the front of the Marquis, tapping on the hood as she waited for Sam to join her. "You mean you guys can talk to each other? Like telepathically?"

Sully nodded, and his eyes flittered past her towards the empty house. "She — she wouldn't be in there," he began when Sam started up the path, and Alex turned in time to see Sully dart past the Winchester and up towards the wooden fence. Sam followed after him, and with a frown, so did Alex. The gate was open, flung wide in Sully's rush, and Alex yanked it closed behind them.

Sam was standing in front of a pool, Sully cowering at his side, and Alex's wings rose curiously at the sight of an orange, scaly tail hanging out over the side. "Is that …" She moved closer, eyes widening to find the body of a mermaid floating in the red pool water. "That … that's a fucking mermaid."

Her eyes swung up onto Sam, searching for an answer, but the Winchester's gaze was transfixed upon the pool, his eyes darkening with each passing second. "It's a bloodbath," Sully whispered.

His voice trembled, on the verge of tears, and Alex stepped in front of him to block the zanna's line of sight. "Hey, if you need to take a few steps back and let it out …"

"No, no." Sully firmly shook his head, thumbing nervously at his suspenders as he looked over at Sam. The Winchester had circled around the pool, his head tilted as he studied the body. "I gotta stay strong for Sam."

"It looks like more stabbing," Sam announced, returning to stand at Alex's side, and the angel's tongue darted out to lick at her lips as she studied the corpse. "Uh, Sully, do you know of … of anybody that would want to hurt Nicky? Anyone at all."

"No, uh …" Sully hesitated, only continuing when Alex crossed her arms, "Oh well, I mean, her boyfriend's a little clingy. But he's one of my best friends," he rushed to add. "Guys, Weems would never hurt Nicky. I mean, he loved her too much."

"O-Okay. So we should definitely go and talk to the … to the mermaid's boyfriend." Alex's eye flickered back to the bloody pool before it turned up onto Sam. "Whose name is … Weems. Wanna place bets on what he'll be? A centaur? Maybe Bigfoot?"

Neither Sam nor Sully found her joke amusing, and Alex fell silent with a sullen huff. She turned to go, but Sully reached out to stop her. "Wait! Wait! We — we can't just leave her here." His voice dropped down into a low, quiet whisper. "It's disturbing for the kid."

"Okay, what do you want to do? Cause we can't exactly flush her." Sam groaned at Alex's comment, and the angel paused. "Oh God, you're right, I sound just like Dean." She covered her face with her hands, drawing in a deep, horrified breath. "Sorry, Sully."

"I … I think I saw some shovels back there." Sully hurried away back towards the side of the house, and Alex took the opportunity to circle around the pool, taking in the sight in front of her. A deep wound in the mermaid's chest was indicative of a blade; the pool had washed the blood away, revealing the long, jagged hole.

"Definitely not an angel blade," she murmured as she felt Sam stop beside her. "It looks really wide." She held up her fingers to indicate the blade's probable width, and the Winchester nodded in agreement. "Come on, help me get her out." She reached into to drag the corpse closer to the side of the pool, hauling it out with Sam's assistance and laying it in the ground.

"We can bury her up against the fence," Sam suggested, nodding towards the line of low-hanging bushes that stretched out against the white picket planks, and Alex helped him drag the body across the yard.

Sully returned, two shovels in hand, and Alex shoved the steel shovel blade into the ground with a shake of her head. "We'll have to drain the pool, too," she muttered, yanking the shovel upwards and tossing the dirt off to the side. "Great."

She started digging the hole, wide enough for the mermaid to rest on her back, pausing to find that Sam wasn't joining in, his eyes focused on the ground and lost in thought. "Hey, Sam," she snapped, "you gonna help with this? We need to get this done before the family gets back."

"No, yeah, of course." Sam's shoulder brushed hers as he started digging. "Sorry." He tossed a shovelful of dirt onto Alex's pile, but then he hesitated, his eyes lifting to find Sully. "How you holding up, Sully?"

"I'm fine." The zanna's response came too quickly, too cheerfully, and Alex looked up in time to see him still his nervous hands. "How are you, Sam?"

"Aces." Sam shrugged, his voice calm, and he slammed his shovel back into the earth, driving it in further with his boot. "Never better."

Alex's phone rang, and the angel pulled her phone out of her pocket with a frown. "It's Dean," she explained, stepping away from the growing hole. "I should take this." She waited until Sam waved her away with a nod, and she crossed to the other side of the yard. "Hey, Dean." She leaned her back up against the side of the house, watching Sam and Sully continue the work. "What's up?"

"Not much. Just checking in. How's the imaginary hunt?" Dean laughed at his own joke, and Alex rolled her eyes.

"Actually, it's been great. You're really missing out, Dean-o." Alex grinned as her eyes moved down onto the mermaid's body. "We saw a dead unicorn man, and now we're burying a mermaid before we go and talk to her boyfriend."

Dean scoffed. "Ha ha. Really funny."

"I'm serious. The, uh, manicorn's name was Sparkles, and his blood was glittery." Alex heard Dean laugh again, and she pushed herself away from the house with a shake of her head. "How's your research been going? Is Cas back yet?"

"Nope, not yet." The humor in Dean's voice soured into disappointment and disgust. "I would have thought he'd have at least called by now." He paused before adding, "You haven't heard anything from him?"

"We're not exactly on the best … speaking terms." Alex turned away from Sam and Sully, hoping neither were close enough to hear. "You know how it is."

She forced a chuckle, but the humor wasn't echoed by Dean. "Is this still about Crowley?" Alex didn't answer, toeing at stretch of small rocks that lined the side of the house, and she heard Dean let out a small, quiet sigh. "Want me to talk to him?"

"That would be great." Alex drew her wings in close, her voice small. "Thanks Dean."

The amusement returned to Dean's voice. "Don't mention it."

"Alright. Well, I gotta get going. Sam probably needs help burying that mermaid." Alex grinned at Dean's scoff, and she crossed back over to the pool, scowling at the red water. "I'll text you later. Got to go." She hung up and crossed back over to Sam, accepting her shovel to help finish with the grave.

...

 **"S** am!" Sully's shout had Alex jumping to her feet, her eye stretched wide. A thump followed Sully's exclamation, and Alex's grace snapped out, flicking on the motel lights to reveal the zanna standing next to Sam's bed. The Winchester was on the floor, rubbing at his head as he glared upwards towards the source of his surprise. "Oh!" Sully's eyes went wide as he looked down. "I — I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to startle you." His voice dropped into a whisper as he crouched down next to Sam, and the Winchester pushed himself to his feet.

"I'm fine." He dropped down onto the bed, and Sully immediately joined him, concern momentarily replacing the fear on his face. "What do you want, Sully?"

"It's Weems." The fear immediately returned, and Sully jumped back up to his feet. "He — something's wrong." His eyes swung over to Alex, and the angel crossed her arms. "He just c-called me on t-the — the telepathic link we share — he's been stabbed."

"Dammit." Sam fumbled around for his bag, and Alex shut her laptop, watching impatiently as Sam threw on a flannel over his messy v-neck. "Can't catch a break," she heard him mutter as he fumbled with the buttons, and Alex caught the keys that were hastily tossed in her direction.

"Sully, meet us there," Alex instructed, and she hurried out of the door. Sam rushed after her, his shoes in his hands, and the angel unlocked the car doors with her grace. "We should have gone straight to the house."

"It's two in the morning." Sam tugged on his shoes as Alex guided the car out of the parking lot. "We — it was the right idea to just get a room and wait until tomorrow."

"The right idea until our prime suspect got stabbed." Alex slammed on the acceleration, and the car lurched down the road. "Good thing we're only a few minutes out." Tires squealed as she turned the corner, accelerating towards the outskirts of town. "Need a jump?" She held out her hand towards Sam, palm facing upwards. "You're still looking pretty tired."

"I'm fine." The Winchester stifled a yawn, and Alex returned her hand to the wheel with a shrug. "Don't worry about me."

"Ah. I always worry about my little people friends." Alex reached out to scratch at the back of Sam's head, her voice lifting in a teasingly demeaning tone to hide how her grace snuck inwards to chase away Sam's exhaustion. Sam slapped her hand away, and the angel laughed.

"I think that's the house." Sam pointed up the road, and Alex slowed the Marquis down to a slow roll as they approached.

"Think you're right." Alex pulled the car up along the far curb and killed the engine. "Let's go." She led the way towards the house, her feet moving silently across the lawn as her grace stretched out ahead of her. "They're out back. Follow me."

Her grace rose to her good eye as she circled along the side of the house, and she paused in its shadows. A clothesline obscured the sight of the backyard, but the roof of a small shed could be seen against the moonlit sky. Sam moved past her, and Alex took up the rear, her wings drawn in tightly as the scent of blood permeated the air. "Sully?" Sam called the zanna's name in a harsh whisper, and Alex glanced back at the dark house. "Sully!"

"Sam!" Sully's head peeked out of the shed door, his eyes lighting up at the sight of them. "Over here! We're over here!"

He ducked back into the shed, and Alex slipped past Sam to enter the small building first. A man was slumped in the far corner, his hands pressed tightly against his side, and Alex's nose wrinkled at the sharp smell of blood. "You must be Weems." She stepped aside to let Sam in, reaching behind the Winchester to pull the shed door half-closed. "Heard you got stabbed."

"Y-Yeah." The man nodded, hissing at the pain as he shifted his hands on his wound. "It went right through my love handle. My fat saved me." He looked up at Sully, the pain turning his grin into a grimace. "Can you believe that?"

"Fat is the best," Sully agreed.

"Well, he's probably not the murderer, unless he stabbed himself." Alex flicked her wing dismissively, and Weems' eyes widened. He looked between the two, and the longer he stared, the further open his mouth dropped.

Sully knelt down at Weems' side, his hand gently squeezing his shoulder. "They're friends," he promised. "They're here to help."

"Look, buddy." Alex glanced up at Sam, and when the Winchester nodded, she crouched down in front of Weems. "We've got two bodies on our hands, and you were almost number three. Who the hell did this to you?"

"T-Two bodies?" Weems looked up at Sully, but Sully looked away, unable to hold Weems' gaze. "What do you mean? You mean — Sully?"

"Someone murdered Sparkles the unicorn two nights ago, and then that same someone killed Nicky the mermaid just this morning." Alex opened her mouth to say more, but she was cut off by Weems' shriek.

"What?! No! She … she was my girl!" Weems' head fell back in a cry of grief. "And Sparkles!" He looked up at Sully, tears glistening in his eyes. "Dude, t-that's like our whole posse!"

"I know, right?" Sully squeezed Weems' shoulder, and the zanna's head dropped to his chest. "But hey, you're okay. You're okay. That's the important thing. Who — who would have done this?"

"I …" Weems trembled — from the grief or from the pain, Alex couldn't tell. "I've never seen her before in my life," he insisted. His eyes swung over onto Sam when the Winchester moved closer, his curiosity piqued, and the zanna drew in a shaky breath through his nose before he spoke. "It was some chick. After she … shivved me, she took off in an old VW Bug."

"By 'chick' you mean human, right?" Weems nodded, and Alex pushed herself to her feet with a grin back at Sam. "Looks like we're back on solid ground. Although, I gotta be honest, I was looking forward to icing a half-man, half-pterodactyl hybrid." She looked down towards Weems, and her good eye focused on his bloody shirt. "We should probably get that patched up first."

"Good idea," Sam agreed. "You have bandages in the car, right?" Alex nodded, and the Winchester glanced off to the shed door as his voice lowered. "I'll stay here and talk with Weems, see if he saw anything else."

"I'll go with Alex," Sully volunteered, jumping to his feet and quickly adding, "If that's alright with you, Sam."

"Uh, sure. Of course." Sam stepped aside to let Alex and Sully through, and, with a shrug, Alex led the way, flicking a wing off towards Sully to get him to follow.

The moonlight turned the lawn silver, and Alex paused outside the shed to reach out with her grace. The house was still and quiet, and the angel let out a soft sigh as she started off towards the Marquis. Sully followed, his footsteps noticeably louder, and Alex drew her wings in tight. "So, you're an angel, huh?" Sully broke the quiet, and Alex cocked her head in amusement at his tone.

"That I am," she agreed, and she slowed down so she could walk at Sully's side as she felt his gaze fall onto her broken wings. "And you … I'm guessing you could tell that pretty quickly."

"Yeah." The zanna's voice took on a wistful note, and Alex shifted uncomfortably at his unblinking gaze. "You know, I — I check up on my kids every so often, just to see how they're doing. You've been good for him."

Alex couldn't help but laugh, but she quickly snapped her mouth shut when Sully didn't share in her humor. "I, uh, I do my best," she mumbled as she paused beside the trunk of the Marquis. "Although I don't know if I'm all that good of an influence anymore." Her wings slumped, pinned tightly against her back as she looked down at the curb.

"Aww, don't say that. I know it's been rough, but I know you always do what's best." Alex scoffed at Sully's words, and her head reared back in surprise when he chucked her under the chin. "You know, you should let your wings show more, like you used to."

"They're not much to look at anymore." Alex opened up the trunk, her wings drawing in even tighter as she dug through the mess of boxes. "Not since the angels fell." She winced at the memory of her fall, her wings trembling at the remembrance of the searing pain, and she glanced back at the burned and broken vanes. "They're pretty much useless now."

"I think they're beautiful."

"Thanks, Sully." Alex's face flushed at the compliment, and she busied herself by handing Sully the bandages."I'll see what I can do Weems, but he still might need this. I — I'm not — Cas would be better at this. I've only healed people before."

"Ah, don't worry. Anything that you can do to help, I know Weems will appreciate." Sully gathered the supplies up into his arms, and Alex fell in step at his side as they made their way back across the darkened lawn. "Listen." Sully stopped outside the shed, his voice dropping low, and Alex paused alongside him. "I know this probably isn't my place, but … if something happens to me …" Sully glanced off towards the shed door. "I need you to promise me that you'll look after him."

"After Sam?" Alex swallowed down a smile at the sight of Sully's somber face. "Of course." Sully's gaze didn't waver, and the angel shook out her wings. "I promise I'll look out for him, Sully," she repeated. "I won't let anything happen to him as long as I'm alive." Sully nodded, and Alex led the way back into the shed. "Hey, Sam. Weems." She knelt down in front of the zanna, her feathers dragging across the dirt ground. She shifted her wings out of the way as she felt Sully move in behind her, and she gently reached out to pull back Weems' shirt. "I'm going to do what I can, but this might hurt."

She looked up at Sam, and the hunter nodded in understanding. "Hey, so, I gotta ask." Sam crouched down next to her, speaking loudly to draw Weems' attention onto him. "I get the unicorn and the mermaid, but … what's so special about you?"

"You just look pretty punk rock," Alex agreed, nudging the zanna's hands out of the way. "Band tee, mullet. It's like you stepped right out of the eighties."

"Oh. I play air guitar." Pride crept into Weems' tone, and Alex shifted back as he straightened up. He strummed at the air, and a note rang out from his hands, followed quickly by a quick riff. His fingers picked at imaginary strings, dancing across the air. The solo lasted for only a few seconds before he fell back against the side of the shed, groaning in pain.

"That's impressive." Alex pushed her grace into her hand, frowning at the dark blue light that emanated from her palm. "Now just sit still for a second, okay?" She placed her hand across the deep wound, slowly letting her tainted grace reach into the flesh and stitch together what she could. She heard Weems hiss in pain, and she slowed her progress, her grace twitching in confusion. Alex reached out to Castiel for help, but a wall met her, and she reluctantly pulled her grace back out of the zanna, unwilling to push any further. "There. That should help. Sully, help me bandage this up."

Sully dropped down at her side, fumbling to unwrap the bandages, and Alex rose to her feet when Sam waved her over to him. "Hey. I'm going to see if I can track down this Bug," he told her. "Send Sully my way once you're done here. Maybe he'll be able to see something I can't."

"Just take him now." Alex stepped to the side, turning so she could look back at the two zanna. "Hey, Sully. Why don't you go with Sam to see if you can find the chick in the VW. I'll finish up things here."

Sully hesitated, his hands hovering over the first layer of gauze that he had already applied. "I … sure. If that's okay with you," he quickly added to Weems.

"I'll be fine." Weems gently probed at his side, and Alex rolled her eyes as she returned to the zanna's side. "Go on, Sully."

"Stop touching that." Alex snatched the bandages out of Sully's hands and tore another strip of tape free. "You'll get it infected." Her wings twitched at the childish behavior, and Weems grunted as she applied the tape a little too roughly. She heard Sam and Sully leave, and she bent her head to finish up her work.

"That's good." Weems gently pushed her hand away, and Alex leaned back on her heels as he struggled to his feet. "Thank you, but I — I gotta go check on my kid Fletcher." He staggered towards the door, grunting in pain, and Alex heard him mutter, "Kid has a bladder like a sieve," as he disappeared out the door.

"You're welcome." Alex dropped down cross-legged onto the ground as she felt Castiel's grace probe up against hers, a curious question. _Hey,_ she greeted. _How's Alexandria?_ She peered into the back of her mind to see out through his eyes. She didn't recognize the marble pillars or the darkly-lit floors, but she caught the sight of scrolls in the corner of Castiel's eyes. _Finding anything?_

 _Nothing._ The discouragement in the seraph's voice rang clear. _There's some references to breaking a demon's deal, but everything it talks about — it's everything that Crowley has already considered. And a deal with a human soul is one thing, but one infused with angel grace? I —_

 _What about the Darkness, Cas?_ Alex cut into his frustrated ramblings, doing her best to keep her tone as patient as she could. _That's a bigger thing than one deal. What about her?_

 _Nothing._ Anger spiked through his grace, hot and sharp, and Alex reached out to calm him down. _Dean called me earlier asking the same was it you were doing? It wasn't … human._

 _It was a zanna._ The lack of surprise that followed made it clear that Castiel knew what she was talking about. _Sam and I are working a case out in New Mexico._

Castiel was silent for a second. _I believe Sam had a zanna as a companion when he was younger,_ he finally said, and Alex watched as he reached for a second, larger book. _I don't know if he remembers, though._

 _He does now, seeing that we're working with him._ Alex's phone vibrated, and she shifted so she could pull it out of her back pocket. _I got to go, Cas. Sam and Sully have found our perp. I … I'll let you get back to work._

Determination flooded through Castiel, and Alex stifled a sigh as he opened up the book. _I'll let you know when I find something,_ he promised.

 _You always do._ Alex opened up Sam's text. " '1534 George St.,' " she read aloud. " 'Meet us there asap. We're going in.' I have absolutely no idea where that is, Sam." She typed the address into her phone, scowling to find that it was far outside of town. "Great. Thanks, Winchester." She pushed herself to her feet and crept out of the shed. Light from a window in the house illuminated the backyard, and the angel scaled the chain fence and jumped into the next yard over.

...

 **T** he junky stolen Honda CRV pulled up alongside the Marquis, the headlights flickering before they finally shut off. Alex slipped out of the car, pressing the rusty door closed as quietly as she could. The Marquis was dark, and Alex's hand hovered over the front hood — the engine was cool. "Sam?" The angel flicked her grace out, her eye swinging between the small house and the wooden barn. "Sam!"

"Alex?" The shout came from within the barn, and Alex drew her weapon at the roughness of Sam's tone. She crossed the grass and kicked open the barn door, her head swinging around to take in the scene in front of her.

Sam was on the ground, rubbing at his head with a dazed look. Sully was on the other side of the barn, blocked from reaching Sam by a darkly-clothed girl, no older than Alex. The girl turned onto Alex, a thick knife in her hand, and Alex lifted her wings as she squared up with the stranger. "You're one of them." The words came out like a growl, and the steel blade glinted in the moonlight as the girl stepped towards her.

Alex's good eye flickered down to Sam, her jaw clenching as she waited for confirmation to attack. She felt her deal against her grace, urging her onwards, and the angel forcefully pushed it down. "No, wait!" Sully's shout echoed through the small barn, and Alex's head swung over to him. "Don't hurt her!"

Alex forced herself to stand back as she turned back to the stranger, and her wings lowered slightly, unsure what to do. "You okay, Sam? What's going on here?"

"It's my fault." Sully jumped in, and Alex blinked in surprise. "Alex, this is Reese. Reese and her twin sister, they were my first kids after I …" He looked over at Sam, his face falling. "After I thought I screwed things up with Sam."

"So this is his fault?" Reese turned on Sam, her fingers tightening on the handle of her blade, and Alex shifted closer, ready to intervene.

"No!" Once again, Sully hurriedly spoke up. "No, Reese, _I'm_ the one who bungled it. It was me. I — I should never have let her chase me into the street." His voice cracked, laced with pain, and Reese visibly trembled. "We were just playing tag. I don't know why I didn't see the car coming." His eyes slid past onto Sam, glistening with tears. "That's why I never went back into the field, that's why I never found another kid. I was too scared I'd hurt them."

"Do you know how bad you messed me up?" Reese's voice shook with anger, and Alex flicked a wing, unsure of the background behind the argument at hand. " 'Audrey's dead because of the invisible man.' Try telling that one to about ten different kiddie shrinks!" She spat out the words in disgust, pausing to let her anger fade. "I always wondered if Sully was real, so I got obsessed with folklore. I studied abroad in Romania, and then I found out he's a zanna."

Her head swung back to Sully, the knife following to point at his stomach, and Sam pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. "Yes," he agreed, "and zanna are good."

Reese sneered. "That's what the witch tried to tell me, too. She sold me a spell so that I'd be able to see these freaks." She waved her knife towards Sully and Alex, and Alex snorted in amusement before she pointed the knife towards Sam. "She gave me this, too. Finally, I can save other kids from these monsters."

"So you killed my friends just to get to me?" Sully stepped forward, but Reese's knife had him moving back once again. "Why — why didn't you call? I would've come."

"Honestly?" Reese let out a scornful laugh. "I kinda liked watching you suffer." The cold humor faded, replaced by once again by anger. "You weren't just Audrey's best friend — you were mine, too. And after she died, Sully, I … I never needed you more."

"I panicked when Audrey died," Sully whispered, his voice barely audible in the still air. "And I left you to deal with the pain, cause I couldn't handle being the one that caused it."

"So maybe I'll take something you _love_ , Sully. A _real_ person." Reese stepped towards Sam, her fingers clenching the knife, and Alex's grace rose up inside of her.

"That's not going to happen." She shifted forward, positioning herself between Reese and Sam as her weapon fell into her hands. "You're going to have to go through me first, and that —" She pointed down at the knife with the tip of her blade "— that's not going to stop me."

"Will killing me make you feel better?" Sully asked, and Alex pointed her blade off in his direction.

"Not an option," she warned.

"This is what I do," Sully insisted. "Whatever's best for the kid." He circled around to stand at Alex's side, his arms spread out towards the woman. "Reesy — if this is what you need, I'm okay with it."

"I'm still mad." The knife in Reese's hand trembled; her jaw clenched to keep her voice from shaking. "I can't stop it. I-I'm just so mad!"

"Reese." Sam stepped forward, and Alex's wings drew in tight as his shoulders brushed against hers. "Revenge … it isn't going to make you feel better. I — We —" He nodded down towards Alex, and the angel forced her grace to release her weapon. "— we deal with monsters every day. _Real_ monsters." His eyes turned onto Sully, and his voice softened. "I know Sully made a mistake, but … he's about as far from a monster as anyone can possibly be."

Reese's eyes stretched wide, trying to keep the tears at bay, and Sully stepped forward. "I'm so, so sorry," he whispered. Reese sobbed, unable to hold it back, and the knife clattered to the ground as she threw herself into Sully's arms. "Oh Reesy, I'm sorry." Sully held her tight, and Alex tucked her weapon back into her jeans as she retreated a few steps to give the two some space.

Sam followed, rubbing at his head, and Alex waved him after her as she stepped out of the barn. "How are you feeling?" She kept her voice as a low whisper, and Sam ducked his head so he could hear. "Did she hurt you?"

"I'll be fine." Sam scowled as his fingers brushed a tender spot. "She just hit me pretty good, Almost knocked me out. I'm _fine_ ," he repeated as Alex reached up to feel at his scalp. She felt him wince as her fingers brushed across a small bump, and she let her grace flow in to heal the bruise.

"There. Now you're fine." She watched as Sully and Reese stepped out of the barn, and she drew her wings in close as they crossed the grass towards the blue VW Bug. She could see Sully's mouth moving, but she kept her grace down to avoid overhearing their conversation. "Think they'll be okay?"

"Sully will take care of her." Sam fell quiet as Reese climbed into her car, and Alex watched as it backed out of the driveway and onto the road.

Sully crossed the grass, his shoulders falling as he stopped in front of Sam. "Well, now that you know about Audrey, you probably never want to see me again," he whispered, his eyes falling onto the ground.

Alex stepped away, leaving the two to their private conversation. She stepped back into the barn, her grace rising to her good eye as she scanned the dirt ground for the knife that Reese had dropped. There. She knelt to pick it up, her fingers brushing over the polished silver blade. Several shapes were carved into it, a sigil that the angel didn't quite understand, and she tucked the weapon into her belt as she slipped back out of the barn.

Sully was gone when she emerged, and Alex crossed over to the Marquis to join Sam in the front seat. "I got the knife," she announced, drawing the steel blade to show off the simple carvings. "Might come in handy one day."

"Hopefully not." Sam started the car, and Alex tossed the blade into the backseat, frowning at his quiet tone. "Listen, I … I've been thinking." He backed the car out onto the road, his brow furrowing as he thought, and Alex sat patiently as she waited for him to formulate his next words. "When we get back, we need to seriously discuss me going to the Cage."

"What?" Alex's wings snapped up, and she quickly forced them back down as the feathers crashed against the sides of the car. "I —" She hesitated, struggling to get her voice under control. "You want to _go_ to the Cage? When did you make that decision?"

"Because that's what my visions are about. I-I mean, it's Lucifer, a-and me. In the Cage." Sam's voice trembled before it hardened in certainty. "What else could they mean? Dean has nothing on the Darkness, and neither does Cas. Lucifer is the only — the only _thing_ that could have answers." Alex's feathers bristled, but she forced them to lie flat as he continued. "Please, Alex. I need you on my side."

"You're talking about walking into Hell and confronting _Lucifer_ ," Alex snapped. "Even I don't want to do that, and I —" Her grace sprang up, shielding her mind from Castiel's prying eyes. "You can't be serious."

"I am serious." The car slowed, and Alex felt Sam's eyes turn onto her. "Please, just — just think about it."

She reluctantly turned her head to meet his gaze, her one eye slowly taking in the plea upon Sam's face. He barely moved, his breath caught in his throat as desperation bled into his hazel eyes, and Alex's shoulders fell. "I'll think about it," she finally promised, and Sam's eyes flickered closed in relief. "I'll think about it, and tomorrow when we get home, we'll talk with Dean about it. That's all I'm going to promise." She kicked off her shoes and settled into her seat, ignoring how her hands trembled in her lap. Sam hesitated, poised as if he wanted to say something else, but he decided against it, and Alex settled back into her seat as Marquis sped off down the darkened road.


	31. O Brother, Where Art Thou?

**January 2nd, 2016**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **"B** ecause it's crazy, okay!" Dean's shout reverberated throughout the bunker, and Alex paused, her wings drawing in tightly at the Winchester's tone; only one conversation could elicit that tone, and despite her better judgement, Alex's feet carried her down the hall. "And it's not going to happen. How many times do I have to say this is a horrible idea?" A chair creaked loudly as Dean leaned forward in his seat, and Alex paused just outside the doorway, peering in at the sight inside; Dean was sitting across the table from Sam, whose where straight and tense in face of Dean's anger. Hazel eyes flickered onto her, spotting her through the darkness, and Alex reluctantly stepped into the room as Dean's sharp gaze followed.

Sam's posture softened as her presence, and he turned back to Dean. "What else have we got?" he challenged, and Alex's shoulders fell as she recognized the argument she had been dreading all week. "Listen, I'm all ears. Ordinarily I'd agree with you, but the visions only happen when I reach out to God." His eyes turned onto Alex, searching for support, and the angel diverted her gaze. "I asked Him for a way to beat the Darkness and the visions got more specific —" His voice dropped. "And I was in the Cage."

"Yeah, with Lucifer," Dean snapped. "The biggest monster ever hatched. Fan-fucking-tastic."

"You know, Lucifer _was_ the biggest monster ever hatched, until you and I hatched one that's even worse." Dean scoffed, and Sam scowled, his elbows thudding against the table as he leaned forward. "Listen, in the vision, Lucifer touches me and I feel calm … like everything will be all right." He fell silent for a moment, lost in thought, and Alex felt a shiver in her wings. "And that's not something I would ever come up with," he finally finished. "I mean, that is the _last_ thing I would ever feel. Please, Alex. Tell him."

Two sets of eyes turned onto her, and Alex stopped herself from shying away. "You … you don't want me participating in this conversation," she muttered. "Neither of you do."

Sam's eyes flashed, and Dean let out a harsh laugh. "Damn straight we don't," he retorted. "You've been buddying up with Lucifer for — for how long?"

Alex's wings snapped out, the broken feathers rattling furiously. "I haven't had anything to do with him for years, Dean! And I don't want Sam walking into the Cage! I — it's —" She clenched her jaw, unsure what to say, and Sam's face darkened.

Dean's chair squealed as he pushed it back, and Alex stepped back to let him through to the far wall where a half-empty bottle of whiskey sat. "Why would God even ask this of you?" he asked, popping open the bottle and pouring himself a drink. "What proof do we have that any of this is actually real?"

He turned back around in time to see Sam's eyes flicker down onto the table. "Yesterday while I was out walking … was a burning bush," he admitted, his voice barely audible. Dean's eyebrows lifted in surprise, and Sam quietly added, "Like in the Bible."

"You were in the forest." Dean's voice rose as he crossed back over to the table. "There are bushes there and sometimes, they burn!" He dropped back into his seat, slamming his drink down onto the table. "Come on, Alex. Help me out."

Alex hesitated, and Sam immediately stepped in. "Dean, doesn't it makes sense? I mean, Lucifer would know how God ended the Darkness. He was _there_."

"Alex."

"I don't know!" Alex threw her hands up, and she stalked over to drop down into a chair at the other end of the table. "I — I don't know, okay, Dean? What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to talk him out of it! Tell him — tell him that he's crazy, o-or that it's some crazy leftovers from when he was in hell." Dean slammed down his drink, scowling as he did so. "How do we know this is God?"

"You mean like his hallucinations." Alex forced her voice to be quiet, breathing in through her nose as she willed her body to be calm. "Dean … Cas got rid of those, what, five years ago now? And I … I'd be able to tell if Lucifer was in his head again."

"Would you?"

"Yes." _No._ Alex's breath caught in her throat as the lie left her lips, and she thanked her Father that neither of the brothers could see how her wings trembled. Why was she lying? "I — I think so," she half-corrected. "I would be able to feel it if Lucifer's grace was there."

"Besides," Sam added, taking over the explanation, and Alex pinched at the bridge of her nose. "Why would Lucifer reach out to me? Why — you'd think he'd find someone who didn't hate his guts."

"Like Alex."

"Dean, not helping." Sam snapped.

"See, this is why I didn't want to be a part of this conversation." Alex pushed herself to her feet, her fingers clenched into fists. "He was in my head for a reason, Dean. Doesn't mean I enjoyed it." Another lie, but Alex pushed past it. "I — I just want what's best for Sam. I want him safe, but … but if Lucifer actually has answers …"

"I think we should talk with Crowley." Sam mimicked Alex's calming tone, and Dean's lips tightened into a thin line. "Dean, at the very least it's worth looking into. We've got nothing on Amara, and just sitting on our ass … it's wasting time."

"Fine." Dean threw up his hands in defeat, and he tipped his glass back to drain the last drop. "We'll talk." He pointed at Alex, and the angel's feathers rustled warily, prepared for another dispute. "Get Crowley to meet us tonight."

"I'll see what I can do." Alex glanced at Sam, waiting until he gave a curt nod, and she pulled her phone out of her pocket. "No promises he'll answer, though," she muttered under her breath, and she made her way out of the library. The metal stairs clanged under her feet as she ascended towards the door, and she stepped out of the bunker and into the sun.

It took three rings, but to her surprise, the King of Hell answered her call. "Alex. I didn't think I'd hear your voice any time soon."

"Desperate times. How's the arm?" Alex stepped out onto the road, her wings drawn in close to fight off the morning's bitter winds.

"It's fine, no thanks to you." Crowley's voice was gruff, filled with frustration and disdain. "This isn't a social call. What do you want, kitten?"

"Sam may have found someone who knows something about the Darkness." Alex spoke slowly, carefully choosing her words as she felt her deal tug upon her grace. "It's the only lead that we have, and … and we need your help. Please," she added when Crowley scoffed. "You have to want Amara gone as much as we do. Just meet with us and hear us out."

Crowley was silent for several seconds, and Alex scuffed at the dirt with the toe of her shoe. "You're not telling me something," he finally said. "What is it?"

...

 **"L** ucifer?" Crowley's voice boomed through the air as Sam and Dean stepped into the light of the fire, and Alex resisted from wincing at his fury. "You want _me_ to open up the _Cage_. Are you out of your mind?"

Alex felt the Winchesters' eyes turn onto her, and she distracted herself by turning her gaze out across the surrounding concrete, her wings drawing nervously inwards. The bridge above them stopped the night wind, and barrel fires chased away the cold. Men surrounded each of the fires, hunched over to brace against the winter's chill, but apart from a few odd glances, none seemed interested in Crowley's tirade. "Hey, I'm not happy about it either," she heard Dean retort, "but Sam's had these …. these visions."

"They're from God," Sam insisted when Dean faltered, and Crowley's eyebrow cocked. "They started when I prayed to him, and they — they've been getting more specific. I keep seeing the Cage, and this last one …" He drew in a deep breath, calming himself before he spoke. "I was in the Cage with Lucifer. And he … I felt this sense of calmness o-or peace when he touched me. God — he wants me to talk to Lucifer."

"And God assured you of this, did he?" Distrust still darkened Crowley's face, but the anger had dissipated. "I'd say you're making this up, but I never think of you as imaginative."

Sam's lips pursed at the insult, and Dean visibly bristled. "We're not saying it's going to happen," he snapped. "We just want to know if it's possible."

"Theoretically," Alex added, and Crowley's dark eyes turned onto her.

"You would like to know," he quipped, and Alex's wings rose before she quickly pulled them back down, her deal forcing her gaze to the ground in a silent apology. Amusement flickered in the demon's eyes, lasting only long enough to be noticeable before he turned back to the brothers. "The Cage is a can of worms you do _not_ want to open," he warned. "I believe this conversation is over."

He raised his hand, ready to vanish with a snap of his fingers, but Dean stopped him. "Is it?" he challenged. "Crowley, you know that the Darkness is going to pound on everything, and that includes you."

Crowley hesitated, and Sam added, "Yeah. And you had a shot at taking her out when she was with you, but apparently you thought sucking up was the way to go."

"And that didn't work out so well," Dean finished smugly, and Crowley scowled.

"Because she chose _you_. And you couldn't control your girlfriend." Crowley tugged at the cuffs of his jacket as he spoke, his anger conveyed in how he pulled a little too sharply at the sleeves. "What happened in that room, Dean? Why did she insist on sparing you?" He watched as Sam glanced over at his brother, and he added, "What is she to you?"

Dean hesitated, indecision darkening his face, and Alex narrowed her eyes as the silence lengthened. "Wanna know who she is, Crowley?" he finally said, his voice harsh. "How about God's sister!"

Crowley's eyes widened at the confession, and the fight left his face to be replaced by momentary shock. "God's sister?" he repeated, and when Alex nodded, he scowled. "He has _relatives_? I had that kind of leverage under my thumb and I let it slip away."

"Can we focus on the bigger picture here, okay?" Dean's arms folded impatiently across his chest. "Can Sam meet with Lucifer or not?"

"In the Cage," Sam added, and Dean's head snapped to the side.

"No, not in the Cage," he corrected sharply. "That's not going to happen." He looked down at Alex, but the angel kept her lips pursed tightly together.

Emboldened by Alex's silence, Sam mimicked his brother by crossing his arms. "Okay, then I don't meet with Lucifer. Dean, we can't let him out."

"You're unusually silent." Crowley spoke quietly, and once again Alex hurriedly dropped her eyes back onto the ground. "I would have expected you to have quite the opinion about Lucifer of all things."

"Well, I guess you'd be mistaken," Alex snapped, and she shoved her hands deep into her pockets. "I … see the merits to both sides," she finally added. "Sam needs to talk with Lucifer even — even if there's just a small chance that he knows something about the Darkness, but if Sam isn't safe …" She nudged at a small chunk of discarded concrete as she hesitated. "Sam's safety should come first."

Crowley hummed, a noise of interest, and he turned back to face Sam and Dean. "There may be a way," he finally decided. "Clearly, if Sam entered the Cage, he's gone. And yes," he added, "it's on my bucket list, but now's not the time to be selfish. We need a secure site, a way to neutralize Lucifer's powers."

"In hell?" Sam guessed, and Crowley scoffed.

"Yes, in hell, so we have a _modicum_ of control! You think I want that abomination running amuck upstairs?" His eyes darted over Alex, carefully watching her reaction to the insult, but Alex kept her wings pinned neutrally against her back, staring blankly off into the distance.

"Is it possible to control the situation?" Dean drew Crowley's attention away from her, and Alex let her fists relax — when had she clenched them? "Because if Sam's not safe, it's not happening."

"Goodness, mummy, loosen the grip." Crowley paused, waiting for Dean to scowl before his tone grew stiffer. "Theoretically, it's possible, with challenges. I can arrange for transit into hell. Opening the Cage, that's another matter."

"You're the king of the joint. Don't you have a key?"

Crowley's eyebrows lifted at Dean's accusation. "It was sealed by God Himself!" he retorted. "Of course I don't 'have a key.' " He paused, and Alex glanced over to watch the brothers' reactions; Sam was nodding, but Dean merely rolled his eyes. "The mechanisms is of divine manufacturer," Crowley finally said. "I believe its secrets, along with the spells for warding Sam, were recorded where many such mysteries are found. The Book of the Damned."

"Great." Alex let her wings rise up, shaking out the broken vanes. "Well, we don't exactly have that at the moment."

"But we know who does," Crowley reminded. "And I know where she is. You boys remember my little home away from home in Fall Rivers, right? I'll bring that bitch there. Alex, go with them and make sure that they don't touch anything. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Alex shoved her hands into her pockets, letting her wings unfold slightly in acquiescence.

"Yes, what?"

The angel felt her face flush, and she cast a quick look over at Sam and Dean. "Y-Yes, Crowley," she corrected, thankful for the darkness that helped hide her embarrassment. "I understand."

"Good girl." Crowley's eyes glinted, delighted at her subservience, and Alex dropped her attention onto the ground. "Be there at this time tomorrow. I'll be waiting." He didn't wait for confirmation and, with a snap of his fingers, he vanished into the dark.

...

 **Fall Rivers, Massachusetts**

 **T** he abandoned sanitarium loomed through the darkness, the boarded windows catching in the harsh glow of the Impala's headlights. Alex jumped out of the backseat, her grace stretching outwards as she circled around to the gate. "Hurry up," she called over her shoulder. "We're late." Her grace impatiently undid the thick padlock, and the gate swung open with a heavy creak.

She paused on the other side to wait for Sam and Dean to catch up, her feet tapping at the cracked concrete. She kept three steps ahead of them, her deal pushing her to urge them on. The door swung open beneath her touch, and Alex finally slowed, her impatience falling away. Sam and Dean paused as they stepped over the threshold, unsure which way to go, and Alex's wing twitched. "Crowley's this way."

She led the way down the twisting halls to the arched double doors, its wood and metal carved with intricate turns and swirls. It swung open beneath her touch, revealing the torch-lit throne room beyond. Crowley sat upon the iron throne, a finger tapping impatiently on his chin. He straightened up as they entered, and Alex let out a soft breath of relief as she felt her deal lighten. "About time." The King of Hell motioned Alex forward, and the angel complied, circling around so she could stand behind him. "I was starting to think you weren't coming."

"We hit construction —"

"I don't care." Crowley dismissed the angel's excuse with a wave of his hands. "My demons should be bringing Rowena in here any moment. You should wait over there." He pointed to a door off to his right, and Dean frowned.

"Are you serious?" he challenged. "You want us to wait outside?"

"Dean, Dean, Dean." Crowley shook his head disparagingly. "When will you learn it's all about presentation? More importantly," he added when Dean scowled, "I don't need any more rumors circulating that I'm working with you two. So stay hidden until my men are gone." He shooed them away, and Alex stepped out from beside the throne to follow. "Ah. Alex, stay here."

With a flick of her wings, Alex returned to her spot, her arms folded across her chest. The door closed behind the Winchesters, and the throne room fell quiet, the only sound the faint clicking of Crowley's nails against his iron armrest. "What happened to your eye?" The tapping paused, and Alex scoffed.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she muttered.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the demon smirk. "Actually, I would." He tapped twice on the arm of his chair, and Alex's good eye flickered to the ground.

"Witch. He … he was the son of one of the witches that was killed when you sent me after Rowena back in Denver. He had an angel blade. Archangel blade," she reluctantly corrected. "That's why I'm not healing like I should." Her feet scuffed at the concrete floor, and after a moment's hesitation, she asked, "Can you … can you fix it?"

"Maybe." Crowley didn't bother to glance up at her, his voice quiet as he mused. "An archangel blade, you say. I want you to bring that to me as soon as you can."

"You —" Alex swallowed back her anger, grinding her teeth together as she forced her voice back under control, and she folded her hands in front of her as she focused her eye on the far end of the room. "Once things calm down, I'll bring it to you. If — if the Winchesters catch me with an archangel blade, they might get the wrong impression. About our intentions with … Lucifer."

"Touché." Crowley shifted in his seat, drawing forth a small, slim knife to toy with as he thought. He fell silent, and Alex tucked her arms behind her back as footsteps approached the throne room. The door swung open to reveal three figures; the two on either ends were demons, dressed in black suits and ties. The middle one was female, her head was obscured by a black leather hood, but Alex recognized the woman immediately. Rowena.

Despite the restraints, the witch walked confidently across the floor, only relying on the demons to tell her when to stop. The hood was removed, and Rowena shook out her hair with a dark scowl. "Mother." Crowley straightened up in his seat, and Alex rolled her shoulders back as the demons' eyes flickered onto her. "Good of you to stop by."

"Unhand me, you goons!" Rowena ripped her arms from the demons' grasps, her shackles clattering at the action. Crowley waved a hand, a signal for the demons to leave, and Rowena lifted her chin in defiance, brushing back her red hair the best that she could . "So, _Fergus_ ," she began, her voice dripping with malice, "think you've won? Lay a hand on me, and my followers will swoop down on this tin-can palace of yours with all the power of the Book of the Damned!"

Alex glanced over at Crowley, searching for any sign that her intervention was needed, but Crowley merely leaned back in his seat. "Stow it, you lying bitch. If you could do that, you'd have done it. If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done that."

"Not that you haven't tried." Faux betrayal crept into Rowena's voice, and Alex barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes.

Crowley paused, his finger pressed up against the tip of his knife. "You tried to kill me," he reminded. " _Twice_."

"What is it they say? Third time's the charm." Rowena's smile was sickly sweet, but it faded as the side door creaked open. Sam and Dean stepped through, and the witch's face paled ever so slightly. "Oh, you're not handing me over to them," she bemoaned, turning back to her son. "It's beneath even you. They're your enemies as well!"

"Alright, Rowena." Dean stopped a few feet into the room, his own displeasure more than evident. "We get it. We're all enemies, okay? But right now we've got bigger fish to fry. Then we can go back to killing each other."

"Ah." The surprise melted away, and Rowena's lips slowly turned up into a smug smile. "The chicken's come home to roost. This ghastly force set free when the Mark was removed."

"So you know?"

Rowena smiled over at Sam. "I've heard whispers," she promised cryptically. "As bad as they say?" She turned back to Dean, and the Winchester's hands dropped back down to his side, his right arm turned to hide where the Mark of Cain had once lay.

"Well, let's just say that everyone in this room might hold a piece to the puzzle to corking it back up," he said.

"Oh, really." Scorn darkened Rowena's face, and Alex lifted her arms to fold them across her chest. "And what happens to me once the danger is past? How do I know that I can trust any of you?"

"You don't." Crowley's words drew everyone's attention onto him. "None of us do. It's a devil's bargain." He slid the tip of his knife under his fingernail, dislodging a small fleck of dirt before he flicked the knife towards the table in the middle of the room. "Sit. All of you."

Rowena tossed her head as she turned, and Alex watched Sam roll his eyes as he moved to join the witch at the wooden table. Dean followed more slowly, displeased at the order, but he was the first to sit down, his arms crossed as he motioned for Rowena to sit across from him.

The action was accompanied by a dark glare in Crowley's direction, and the demon twisted the small knife in his hands. "Alex, why don't you sit down as well," he instructed, gesturing to the small concrete step beside the throne. He held Dean's gaze as Alex complied, carefully sitting down at the feet of the King of Hell. She felt his hand come to rest on the top of her hair, his fingers drumming mindlessly, and she dropped her gaze to the ground as she felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. Out of the corner of her eye, saw Dean's demeanor darken, and her wings twitched violently as Crowley's finger moved to curiously brushed across their bony arch.

The action went unnoticed by Rowena, whose attention was focused completely on Dean. "So, what exactly is it that you boys let out of the bag, hmm?"

"The Darkness." Dean's reply was curt. "A force so powerful that God himself had to lock her away to keep her from destroying everything, which just so happens to be her goal now that's she's back." He glanced over at Sam before he reluctantly added, "And apparently she's God's sister."

"His sister?" Rowena's eyes stretched wide in surprise and amazement, and Alex scowled at the joyful laugh that followed. "Can this be true? In my day we'd all be burned at the stake for even _thinking_ any of this."

"You see then, Mother, the need for urgency," Crowley's hand disappeared from Alex's head to play once again with his knife, and Rowena's amusement died, replaced by cool displeasure.

"Well, if my deciphering of the Book is so pivotal," she said, her chin lifting as her eyes narrowed, "I'd like to know what's in it for me."

"You mean, other than your life?" Dean retorted, and Rowena's face darkened even further at his quip.

With a sigh, Crowley rose to his feet; a single tap on Alex's head told her to stay put, and the angel drew her legs out of the way so the demon could pass. "Speaking of which, I'll make you a little deal, Mommy." He tucked his knife into his pocket as he approached, and Alex leaned sideways to peer around him. "You pitch in like a good girl, I'll call off my assassins. No more looking over your shoulder, for now."

"Your assassins." Rowena sniffed as Crowley circled around the back of her chair. "And what about _her_ , Fergus? I don't doubt that she wouldn't hesitate to kill me, either."

Two sets of eyes turned onto Alex, and the angel's wings twitched disdainfully. "Alex won't touch you." Crowley's fingers dragged across the wooden backing of Rowena's chair. "I give you my word."

"And what makes you so sure you can control her like that?" Rowena held Alex's gaze, her nose lifted in disgust. "I don't see a leash."

Alex quickly dropped her eyes to the ground, flinching as she heard Crowley chuckle. "I can get her a leash if you want," he joked, and Alex couldn't help but shift uncomfortably. "I promise you, she's completely under my control. Alex." He beckoned her forward, and Alex started to push herself to her feet, but the demon clicked his tongue. "Ah. Not like that." He pointed to the ground, and Alex's jaw trembled as she sunk to her knees.

"Alright, that's enough." Dean pushed himself to his feet, his green eyes dark with anger, and Crowley turned back to his mother with a thin smile. "Do we have a deal or not?"

Alex sunk back down onto the concrete as Rowena thought. "I'll need the codex, of course," she finally decided. "And the code-breaker Charlie devised."

Yeah, you'll get limited access," Sam countered, and Rowena sniffed. "Supervised."

He crossed his arms and, when Rowena didn't argue, Dean added, "We need to know exactly this: how to open the Cage and how to protect Sam once it is." Alex felt his eyes flicker across her, but she kept her gaze on the ground, head turned slightly to hide her blind eye from the four in front of her.

"Just what's in this cage that's so dangerous?" Rowena asked, interest thickening her accent, and Alex finally lifted her head.

"Lucifer." She drew her wings in close as she spoke, quickly glancing towards Crowley, but the demon didn't even look her way. "Lucifer is locked up in the cage."

Rowena hesitated, pale disbelief upon her face, but when the angel remained silent, she smiled. "Lucifer?" Alex didn't miss the light of surprise and joy in her eyes, and she leaned against the table as she turned to face Sam and Dean. "The original Dark Prince?"

"Yes," Dean agreed, "an archangel so badass that he was personally dumped into the Cage by God himself."

Rowena looked down into her lap, barely able to contain a squeak of excitement, and Alex managed to catch Crowley's gaze; the demon's face was dark with disgust. "Well, let's get to it, then," Rowena finally said, her voice thin as if it held emotions the witch sought to suppress, and Dean's head lolled back as he rolled his eyes.

"We're going to need the Book of the Damned." Emboldened by Crowley's lack of response, Alex rose to her feet. "Where is it, Rowena?"

"So you can kill me and take it for yourself?" Rowena laughed in scorn. "If you want the Book, you'll have to take me with."

"We don't have time for this!" Dean demanded, but Crowley held up his hand, and the Winchester fell silent.

"Alex, take Rowena and retrieve the Book," he ordered. "Do what you have to." He turned to look down at Sam and Dean, and Alex's wing flicked smugly at Rowena's incredulity. "I'm assuming you had the foresight to bring the codex and the code-breaker. I'll have a room secured for Mother to work."

...

 **A** lex turned the stolen sedan down the ramp, her left foot thumping against the dead pedal in time with the music. Rowena sat in the passenger seat beside her; the witch's gaze was out the side window, her shoulders stiff with displeasure, and Alex reluctantly reached over to turn the music down. "So … where's my next turn?"

Rowena's chin lifted as she spoke, her voice regal and crisp. "You'll want to go right," she announced. Her fingers curled into the side handle of the door as Alex turned the car, and once it had straightened out, Rowena once again spoke. "So, we're really looking to open up Lucifer's cage, hmm?"

"Yup. I can't say that I'm looking forward to opening up that can of worms again." Alex dropped her left hand down onto the stick, her nails digging into the faux leather. "Things were bad enough the first time we accidentally opened it up. If we don't do it right this time …"

"You mean you've met Lucifer before?"

Alex cast the witch a quick look, confused by the breathless words. "You could say that," she quietly agreed. "I … I have to ask. Why are you so excited about him? He's the _devil_."

"Oh, just a schoolgirl's curiosity." Some of the tension left Rowena's shoulders as she turned to look at Alex, and the angel rolled her eyes. "So tell me. What is he truly like? Is he evil as everyone says?"

"He's … I guess it depends who you ask." Alex spoke slowly, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Uh … some … some will say he's evil, but he thinks that's he's just misunderstood. No matter what side you take," she quickly added, "I think everyone can agree that he's a bit of an asshole."

Rowena's hum conveyed that she was less than convinced. "Perhaps to you. But I'm sure he's much more agreeable … to certain people."

"What?" The car jerked as Alex laughed, her foot slamming on the acceleration. "Oh, like you? Because you're a witch and he's your dark overlord?" She scoffed. "Lucifer hates people. He barely tolerated me, and I'm not even human anymore."

"We'll see. I can be quite … persuasive." The seductive twist to her voice had Alex scowling, and Rowena's eyes turned back out the window. "It's every witch's dream to meet him, you know. At least for the true loyalists."

"Well, I think your affections are misplaced." Was that jealousy in her voice? Alex quickly pushed the feeling away with a shake of her head. "And lucky for all of us, you're not going to have the chance to talk with him. Only Sam is going to get close enough." That time, Alex was confident that it was jealousy that twisted at her stomach.

"Pity." Rowena fell quiet with a sigh. "But I suppose he isn't relationship material." Alex didn't respond, her attention on keeping her wings from rising in anger. They continued on in silence until Rowena sighed again, heavy and dramatic. "You missed your turn, dear."

"You didn't tell me I _had_ to turn," Alex muttered, and she swung the car around on the open road, the tires squealing against the pavement.

Rowena's shackles clinked as she shifted her hands in her lap, and Alex turned the car down the dirt road. "So," Rowena began again, "how exactly did my son get someone like you under his thumb?"

Alex's fingers dug into the steering wheel, her eyes narrowing as she considered a response. "I made a stupid mistake," she finally growled, displeased at the turn of conversastion. "I shouldn't have done it, but there's no point in wishing otherwise. He's normally not that … authoritative," she added after a second's thought. "He's just pissed at Sam and Dean and he's taking it out on me." The car jostled as the dirt road suddenly turned back into pavement, and Alex scowled out into the darkness. "Where are we even going, Rowena? There's nothing out here."

"We're almost there," the witch promised temperately. "Keep driving."

The car rose up over a hill, and a small home caught in the headlights, standing tall among the flat fields. Alex turned the car into the dirt driveway at Rowena's instructions, her grace stretching out to inspect the property. The passenger door swung open, and Alex jumped out of the car as Rowena stepped out. "Whoa!" she snapped. "Hold up."

"Oh, please." The witch's hair caught in the headlight as she circled around, a halo of fire against the night. "Do you really think I'm going anywhere in _this_?" She held up her shackled wrists in scorn, and the sequences in her narrow dress shimmered as she moved. "I just want to retrieve the Book as much as you do."

She swept away, moving through the overgrown property with the grace of a queen, and Alex rolled her eyes before following after her. "You're really going to tell me that you hid the fucking Book of the Damned _here_? It's a dump."

"Language," Rowena chided, and Alex scoffed. "I could hardly keep it with me, between Fergus and the Winchesters." She paused beside the decrepit door, clicking her tongue absent-mindedly. "You'll have to stay out here, dear. No angels or demons inside."

She stepped across the threshold, and Alex's wings flared out in surprise as a wall stopped her from following, a thick tangle of invisible thorns that caught against her grace. Her eyes snapped up to the broken windows to see the blue glow of wardings, and Alex pushed fruitlessly against the thorns. "Rowena! This isn't part of the deal!"

"Oh, ye of little faith." The voice drifted out through the far window, and Alex tore around the side of the building, cursing as buckthorn tore at her clothes. "I'm more than willing to play your game in exchange for the codex and my freedom."

The back of the house was dark, lacking any sort of a door, Alex followed the witch's voice back towards the front door in time to see Rowena step out onto the front step. There was a pause as the witch ran her eyes across Alex's appearance, her clothing wrinkled and slightly torn from the undergrowth, and Alex's fists curled at the amusement that flitted across her pale face. "Well?" she snapped. "Do you have the Book?"

"Aye, I do." Rowena nodded down towards a leather-wrapped parcel tucked in her arms. "Now do you want to leave, or do you mean to go trampling through the brambles some more like a drunk badger?" She turned back to the car, her eyes twinkling with an unusual mirth, and Alex set off after her with a scowl.

...

 **T** he sun was above the horizon by the time Alex and Rowena returned to Needham Asylum. Alex grabbed the Book of the Damned off of the witch's lap, ignoring her sharp protest. "Come on. They're expecting us." She kicked the car door shut behind her and started up the sidewalk, pausing only to make sure that Rowena was following.

Despite the open torches, the inside of the asylum was cold — as per usual — and Alex flicked her grace down the halls as Rowena closed the door behind her. "Come on." She led the way towards the throne room, the Book of the Damned tucked up against her chest. "Crowley?" She called out the demon's name as she rounded the corner, frowning to find it as empty as the hall before. "Where the hell is everyone?"

A door ahead of her creaked open, and Sam peered out; his face, dark with confusion, lit up at the sight of her. "Hey. You're back." His eyes slid past her onto Rowena, and he waved them forward. "Come on. We've got things set up in here."

"Here." Alex handed him the Book of the Damned. "You take care of her. I need to talk with Crowley, let him know what happened." She peered past him into the room, frowning to find that it was empty. "Where's Dean?"

"There was a murder at a church across town — massacre, actually. He went to go check it out. Best case, it's some nut job. Worst case …" He shrugged, unwilling to speak of the other possibility.

"Amara," Alex finished. "She's still in Fall Rivers?" Sam shrugged again, and she sighed. "Okay, well, you two get to work on finding those spells. I'll be back once I talk with Crowley." She walked away, leaving the Winchester to take of the witch.

The throne room lay just down the hall, the door propped slightly open, and Alex stepped inside to find Crowley standing at the far end of the room. He turned at the sound of her entrance, and the angel couldn't help how her wings unfolded slightly. "Well?" He crossed over to her, his hands deep within his pockets. "How did it go?"

"It went fine. We found the Book at a small house just north of the highway. The building was warded, so I couldn't go inside. Who knows what else she has stashed away in there." Alex circled past Crowley to lean up against the wooden table. "Where is everyone? I thought this place would be teeming with demons."

"I sent them away for the time being." Crowley dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. "How quickly do you think Rowena will be able to read that book? I don't expect that ginger whore to take more than an hour or two, but I decided to err on the side of caution."

"I have absolutely no idea," Alex said with a half-hearted shrug. "We just got back, and I came here first thing." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder towards the door. "Rowena's already in there with Sam."

"And what of Castiel?" The demon wandered closer; he shoved his hands casually in his pocket as he spoke as if to hide the sharp curiosity, and Alex pursed her lips together. "I'm surprised he hasn't swooped in to save the day."

His eyes glinted, and Alex's gaze flickered down onto the ground. "Last I heard, he's in Gaza," she admitted. "He's looking for stuff on the Darkness … and on how to break my deal." She watched Crowley, searching for any sign of surprise, but the demon remained quiet. "Is there anything else you need me to do?" she finally asked. "Otherwise I'm —"

She cut off at Crowley's smirk, her jaw clamping shut around her question. "You're dismissed for now." He waved her away, and Alex hesitated for only a moment before she quietly left the room. Her wings rose angrily the second she was out of his sight, and the angel squeezed her eyes shut, fists clenched as she reigned in her anger. She pushed down her deal, trying to bury it in her grace, but its hooks only sunk in deeper.

Rowena was already chained to the iron table by the time Alex stepped into the room, her head buried in the Book of the Damned. Sam straddled a chair across from her, and his head lifted in surprise as the door swung closed. "Well?" he asked. "What did Crowley want?"

"Nothing." Alex dropped down into a chair against the far wall, her arms crossed defensively across her chest. "He says the demons are gone for the day, so we don't have to worry about them. Oh, and he doesn't think it should take that long to read that book."

Rowena merely smiled at the angel's pointed words. "I'm as motivated as the rest of you to find this spell," she promised lightly, "but these things take time." She dragged a finger down the page, her painted nails tapping against the yellowed paper. "Ah," she murmured to herself, and her attention dropped back on the book as she turned the page.

"Hey, stay on task," Sam warned, but when Rowena gave no response, he turned in his seat. "How are you holding up?"

"Me?" Alex's eyes narrowed in momentary confusion. "I'm fine, I guess. Eager to get this over and done with, you know?" She watched as Sam glanced back towards the witch, and she added, "You're talking about Crowley, aren't you?"

Sam's cheeks colored slightly, barely visible in the poorly lit room, and his eyes flickered across the walls, looking for a place to rest before they reluctantly landed back on her. "It … it just seems a bit excessive …" he started, and he fell silent when Alex rolled her eyes.

"He's dealing with a lot right now," she said. "He's … well, let's see. He's mad at _her_ for obvious reasons," she began, jerking a thumb towards Rowena, "and he's scared of Amara — again for obvious reasons. And now he's pissed at you and Dean because you want to go talk to Lucifer, who he also should be scared of …" She ended with a shrug, even as her wings drew in; why was she defending him? "He's just taking it out on me because I'm the only thing in all of this he has to control," she finished. "I'm trying not to take it personally."

The thin frown on Sam's face was enough to display his displeasure, but the ringing of his phone directed his attention downwards. He rose to his feet to answer, and Alex silently moved to take the chair across from Rowena. "Hey, Dean," she heard him say. "Yeah, they're back. Rowena's working on it now." There was a pause, and then Sam nodded. "Yeah. But the stuff we're looking for is definitely in the Book. You find anything at the church?"

Rowena's finger slipped under the heavy pages, and a side-long glance was cast in Sam's direction she peered under the page. "Hey, hey." Alex kicked at the leg of the table, and Rowena quickly straightened up. "No peeking, okay?"

Rowena rolled her eyes, but she turned back to her work and, satisfied by the compliance, Alex's attention returned to Sam. "She's upping her game," he was saying, worry thickening his voice. "She's going past the point where we can deal with her."

Alex lifted her grace to her ears to catch Dean's response. "— you're sure you're okay with this whole deal?"

"No. Not even a little bit," Sam admitted, "but what choice to we have, you know?" Rowena had paused to listen; a quick glare from Alex had her heaving a sigh as she sifted through the pages of the code-breaker. "Right now it's just research, but you got it," Sam promised. "Nothing without you." He hung up, and Alex slid her chair to the side so Sam could drag the second one up to the table.

"You talk about trust." Rowena didn't look up from the Book of the Damned as she spoke, and Alex felt Sam stiffen.

"No," he countered, "I don't."

"You and your blood-thirsty brother say we're partners in this holy war against Amara, and yet —" Rowena lifted her hands sharply, the iron rings of the shackles clacking together in the small room. "Trussed like a _chicken_."

Sam jammed his finger down onto the iron table. "You're sitting here with the Book of the Damned and the means to read every word, and you think I'm going to set you free?" he snapped, and anger flashed hot in his hazel eyes. "Do I _look_ crazy?"

Rowena lowered her hands back down to the table, her chin raised to meet Sam's anger. "Well," she began, the frustration in her voice traded for calm composure, "you do have unresolved issues with your domineering older brother and the abandonment by your father."

The tightening of Sam's jaw was the only outward show of his anger. "You know what? Just get back to work. Alright? We're running out of time here!" He walked away, pinching the bridge of his nose, only to spin back around when the witch let out a small exclamation of surprise. "What? What now?"

Rowena pushed herself to her feet, her red lips pursed together in a thin, smug smile.  
"Well, I'll need some ingredients." She turned her eyes onto Alex, adding, "You may summon Fergus, now. And tell him to bring a hand cart."

"A hand cart?" Alex repeated, and she exchanged a confused glance with Sam Winchester as she rose from her chair.

"We're going to Hell." Rowena straightened the pages of the code-breaker as she spoke, her eyes sparkling in excitement.

"You found a spell that'll work?" Sam hurried back to the table, and the table creaked as he leaned up against it to look down at the array of books and papers.

"Yes, Samuel." The witch's voice was tinged with exasperation, but she kept her composure calm. "We have everything we need to summon Lucifer and keep him contained." Her eyes slid back onto Alex. "Go get Fergus, dear," she repeated, and Alex's feathers ruffled at the demeaning tone. "He'll want to know about this as soon as possible."

Alex hesitated, her jaw clenched at the order, and she stiffly crossed towards the door, moving slowly to show her reluctance. Once outside, she paused, untying the knot in her grace as she looked up towards the ceiling. _Cas?_ She let the prayer hang between them, wings pulled hesitantly in. _Where are you?_

 _I'm in Illinois._ The response came immediately, and Alex glanced back towards the room that held Sam and Rowena. _Dean told me about Sam's visions. That you're looking to speak with Lucifer._

 _Sam's looking to speak with Lucifer,_ Alex hastily corrected as she felt Castiel's displeasure. _He's the only lead that we have. Cas, you … Rowena found the right spell in the Book of the Damned. We're on our way to hell right now._

 _Make them wait,_ Castiel ordered. _I can be there —_

 _I can't make_ anyone _wait. I'm at the bottom of the totem pole here, Cas._ Alex scowled as she thought the prayer, and she toed at the smooth stone floor. _I'll let you know where the gate is, but I can't buy any time._

No response came, and Alex probed at the prayer only to find the link had been severed. With a sigh, Alex hurried off towards the throne room. "Crowley." She thrust her way through the double doors, her wing flicking as they slammed shut behind her.

The King of Hell sat upon his throne, one arm thrown casually over the armrest as he reclined in the hard seat. His head turned at the angel's violent entrance, and the knife that he was balancing between his fingers stopped its twirling.

The tip dipped downwards, motioning towards the ground, and Alex looked around the empty room, head tipping to one side. "It's … it's just me here, Crowley. I'm not kneeling." The motion came again, and Alex rolled her shoulders back. "This is important."

The knife flicked once more, a sharper gesture than the others before, and Alex grit her teeth as she felt her deal within her, an unreachable itch to kneel down upon the cold stone floor. She clenched her jaw as she dropped down on one knee, head bowed to hide the rolling of her eyes. She heard Crowley rise to his feet, his dress shoes clicking against the stone as he approached. They came to stop in front of her, and Alex's eyes flickered up before she quickly returned her gaze to the ground. "So." Crowley's voice was languid, and Alex forced her impatience down. "Has Mother found anything of interest yet?"

Alex paused, letting the question hang in the air for a moment before she answered. "That's why I'm here. Rowena's already found the spell we need. We're ready to go to hell."

Fingers gripped her hair, pulling her to her feet, and Alex's wings stretched out to steady herself as she suppressed a squeak of surprise. "What? Why didn't you start with that?"

"You're the one made me bow." Alex planted her feet on the floor as she spoke, rising up on tiptoes to alleviate Crowley's grip. "We have some ingredients that we need. You'll have to go talk to her about that one, though." She dropped back down onto her heels as Crowley released her hair, and she shook her wings out so the feathers would lie flat. "Do you need me to do anything?" The question slipped out, and she ground her teeth.

"Just stay close." Crowley adjusted his tie as he spoke; a hint of fear in his eyes betrayed the authoritative calmness of his voice. He tucked the knife into his suit, and Alex fell in step behind him as he lead the way out of the room.

...

 **Hell**

 **T** he hallway shimmered ahead of them, the black air alight with red embers, and Alex's wings pulled in close as one of the embers brushed past her cheek. Sulphur filled her nose, permeating every corner of her being, and the angel almost gagged as she opened her mouth to speak. Bile rose in the back of her throat, and Alex's step faltered as she fought to control her stomach. "Flop sweat, sonny?" That was Rowena. She walked at Crowley's side, the Book of the Damned pressed up against her chest. Her heels clicked against the cobblestone as she walked, barely audible over the screams of the damned. "Dread of what's to come?"

"Can it." Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets as he strolled forward, and Alex lifted her eyes to the sky as the ceiling disappeared, leaving nothing but blackness above. "Your barbs may amuse your circle of hags. You have no idea what you're tampering with, what Lucifer is capable of. Isn't that right, Alex?"

Alex turned her eyes back down onto the King of Hell, nodding obediently. "He … broke my wing," she added quietly. "I'd only had them for a week, and he …" A blood-curdling scream broke through the air, and Alex fell quiet with a shiver. "I'd forgotten about that."

She glanced over at Rowena, searching her face for some reaction, but the witch merely chuckled. "Well dear, if you can't stand the heat, get out of hell." She turned her eyes upwards, and Alex cast side a side-long look at Sam as he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I must say," Rowena mused, "it's not as scenic as I'd expected."

"We are in the furthest reaches of hell — Limbo — where I send unruly souls for timeout." Crowley lengthened his stride to take the lead down a side hall. The walls disappeared, leaving only a flat, sulfurous plain, the ends of which was obscured by the blackness.

"I think I've been here before." Alex moved to walk at Crowley's side, her wings flicking in surprise, and she looked up into his face in hopes of an answer.

"You have," he agreed. "When you came to reclaim Bobby Singer, if I believe. What it lacks in ambience, it makes up for in security."

"And it's close to the Cage." Alex's grace instinctively reached out, remembering how strong Lucifer's grace had felt near the edge. Crowley nodded, and Alex's eyes pulled away from the blackness to turn onto the structures in front of her. A small tower had been constructed, overlooking an iron cage that had been placed on the ground before a wooden table. Rowena had already moved forward to set down the Book of the Damned, whose yellowed pages almost glowed in the darkness, and Alex watched her for only a moment before she turned back towards the cage.

She stepped away from Crowley to circle around it, reaching out to brush her fingers across the bars; they were caked with rust, and the sharp flakes broke beneath her gentle touch. "Well?" Crowley's quiet voice echoed in her ear, and Alex drew her wings in closer at his proximity. "Bring back memories?"

"I … some." Alex let her hand fall back to her side, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. "Lucifer showed me the Cage once. At least … at least he said he did. It wasn't anything like this, though. It was — it was huge, actually. Eternally big, but eternally small. That's how he described it."

She heard Crowley hum — despite his best intentions to sound uninterested, Alex could feel his unease — and when she looked back, the demon was gone, already sauntering off towards Sam. Rowena had moved from the table to the cage, kneeling among the cracked stone to paint along the iron platform beneath it. Alex reached up again to feel the iron, and her wings thrust downwards as she pulled herself up, balancing on the outside of the cage as she peered in. "Alex." Crowley called her name, and the angel dropped back down onto the ground. Embers sparked at the impact, stinging at her ankles, but the angel pushed the sensation away as she circled around to the King of Hell. "Don't wander too far off."

Alex flicked a wing to signal that she had heard, and she turned her eyes to watch Rowena work. The witch moved swiftly and surely, each stroke of her brush a confident sweep. She moved around the cage with a sense of poised grace, and Alex watched her until she disappeared from sight.

"Makes your flesh crawl, doesn't it, Moose?" Crowley began. "I get it. I'm the King of the place, and it's still not my cup of tea."

Sam jumped at the sound of his voice, and his shoulders rolled back as he turned to face the King of Hell. "I don't know, Crowley." To his credit, his voice didn't shake despite the fear flickering in his eyes. "I'd say it suits you. Dark. Empty."

"Fascinating." Crowley stared up at the Winchester. "The utter contempt when I'm in the midst of saving the Winchesters' bacon _again_."

"The point of this is to save _everyone's_ bacon," Sam reminded, "including yours." His eyes flickered past Crowley towards Rowena. "Let's just hope she knows what she's doing," he muttered. "This cell won't hold anything if the warding isn't right."

"Don't you worry about me, Samuel," Rowena chided, and Alex narrowed her eyes at the gaiety in her tone. "I'm a professional." She rose to her feet and crossed over to the table, and Sam stepped away to give her room to work.

"And you're sure you can do all this without actually open the Cage, right?" Alex eyed the wardings carefully, her wings drawn in close as Rowena shuffled through the ingredients to the spell. Rowena didn't immediately answered, and Alex's voice sharpened. "Right?"

"We're about to find out, aren't we?" Rowena lifted her arms, and the sigils along the bottom of the cage began to glow like hellfire. " _Foro dega la moray, mah ho tah_!" The ground ignited as fire sprung up, lashing at the air as it surrounded the cage, and Alex's wings trembled as the air thickened around her. "Now, let's have a go at that Cage. _For Re say lah_!"

Alex could feel Sam beside her, his breaths coming in tight, short bursts. The fear emanating from him was palpable, hotter than the hell-burnt air, and Alex's feet shifter her closer to Crowley. The demon stood with a cool calmness, his eyes narrowed as he watched the fire rise. "It begins," he murmured, but the words lost beneath a crack of thunder.

The fire rose, surrounding the entire cage, and Alex screwed her eyes up against the light and the heat as she tried to peer past it into the darkness. She didn't feel Sam move away until he was gone, and she barely spared him half a look as he slipped into the shadows before a bolt of lighting pulled her attention back. The darkness was flickering — Alex's heart pounded in her chest as she searched the shadows. Her hip bumped against the table, and she jumped back with a start — why was she shifting forward?

Crowley's hand grabbed the back of her shirt, dragging her back to his side. "This was a bad idea," she heard him hiss. "Alex, go find Dean. See what's taking him so long —"

Alex didn't hear the rest of his sentence — she didn't even know if he finished it. Red eyes burned through the darkness, and as the fire died, a figure materialized. Crimson feathers filled the cage, glimmering like ice in the firelight, and Alex's own broken wings fell, curling forward and stretching down at the sight. Her grace reached out, feeling towards the cage with a desperation she had never felt before.

But there was nothing there. The cage felt empty. "Alex." She heard Crowley speak her name again, and her deal yank her grace backwards. "Go find Dean." His hands relinquished their grasp on her shirt and against her will, and Alex retreated three steps from the cage.

"Send her away, Crowley, and it'll be the last thing you ever do." Lucifer's voice hung in the air, quiet through the raging fire, and Alex froze. She drew her chin up to calm her trembling as she turned back to face him, but the devil's eyes were locked on Crowley. The flickering flames danced upon the expanse of their blue ice, and Alex's grace shuddered; she had forgotten how cold his eyes truly were — how cold his very being was, despite the heat of hell.

Crowley's gaze flickered onto Alex, and his head dipped in a faint nod. Her deal rose within her grace, a stronger urge than ever before, and Alex's feet carried her away from the cage. Her eyes dropped to the ground, wings pinned tightly against her back as the voices faded and flames disappeared behind her, swallowed up by hell's blackness as she ascended the stairs towards hell's gate.


	32. The Devil in the Details

**Hell**

 **A** lex jumped up the staircase, wings flicking as embers flew with each step. Behind her, the stairs stretched downwards, the bottom so far away that the darkness obscured it — even if her deal had let her look back, Alex would no longer be able to see the fire that encircled Lucifer's cage. Torchlight guided her path as she ascended higher and higher. Doorways broke the stone walls every few steps, leading to flickering hallways that twisted out of sight. Such offshoots grew increasingly rare as the air grew colder, and Alex drew in a deep breath as the scent of sulfur began to fade. A doorway appeared in the distance, and Alex jogged the last few flights to stand beside the wooden door. "Fuck." She bent over, her breath a low wheeze. "Put in an elevator, Crowley."

She rapped upon the door — when no answer came, she knocked harder — and after a second, it unlocked with a heavy click. A woman stood on the other side, dark eyes watching her beneath dark, thick hair. "What do you want?"

"It's Billie, right?" Alex pushed past the reaper with a disinterested flick of her wings. "I'm just coming back up to take care of some business." She heard Billie close the metal door, which creaked in protest, and added, "I'll be back in a couple hours. Where … where did this door take me out?"

"You're in Kenesaw, Nebraska." Billie's voice was cool, dislike and disinterest mingling in her eyes, and Alex turned away with a grunt. "That a problem?"

"No. It's just … not where we came in." Alex crossed the room to exit through the second door, and her eyes narrowed at the bright sunlight that met her. She was standing in an alleyway, a cracked sidewalk beneath her feet, and the angel hesitated, unsure which direction to go. Her eyes swept from one side of the street to another, and then quickly back. That was — no. How?

Castiel's golden Continental sat on the street and, as Alex watched, the car door opened to reveal the seraph. "Alex." Broken wings unfolded from his shoulders, and Alex cast a quick glance behind her before she hurried towards her mate.

"How did you find me?" Her own wings briefly stretched downwards, matching his greeting before she pulled them back up. "I gave you the wrong address — not on purpose," she hurried to add.

"A demon told me where I might find you." Castiel's answer was vague, and Alex narrowed her eyes, but she kept her grace from probing for the truth. "I got a call from Dean. He said he tried to reach you and Sam, but neither of you answered."

"Call?" Alex dug her phone out of her pocket, eyes stretching wide. "I — I didn't get anything. Maybe hell has bad cell reception." She shoved her phone back into her jeans as Castiel opened up the driver's side door to his car, and she hurried around to the passenger side, frowning at the worried spark in her mate's grace. "Crowley sent me topside to find Dean. Where is he?"

"He's near Lincoln, Nebraska."

"That — that's impossible." Alex's head recoiled. "We left him in Massachusetts. How did he get all the way over here?"

"Amara." The Continental's engine coughed as Castiel started the car, and Alex watched him grimace — at the Darkness or at the car, she couldn't tell which. "Dean said that they spoke, but three angels interrupted them. Amara killed all three."

"And …?"

"And then heaven struck her down with everything they could muster." The car jolted forward as they set off down the street, and Alex cast a glance back towards the shop where the gate to hell lay. "Amara sent him away, but from what he says, he was still close enough that he may have suffered from the blast."

"Suffered … how?" Alex's attention dropped back down onto her phone as it vibrated, a notification for a missed voicemail popping up beside Dean's name. "Cas, is he okay?"

" _Ane teloch_." The Enochian words rolled smoothly over the seraph's tongue, a striking contrast to the darkness in his eyes. "Considering he was alive to call us, he'll be fine, but depending on how close he was, he'll be showing symptoms soon. We should get to him as soon as possible." His blunt fingernails dug into the beige leather of the steering wheel, and Alex turned her eyes out the window as she felt his discomfort grow. "How close have they come to summoning Lucifer?"

Alex hesitated, her thumbs drumming against her thighs as she thought. "Rowena's already completed the spell," she finally admitted, "but I … Crowley didn't keep me around long enough to catch more than a glimpse of him." Castiel's wings stiffened, and Alex shifted in the seat. "I'm just worried about Sam. I don't like leaving him alone in hell. Not — not like that."

"Crowley sent you away to avoid Lucifer?"

"To find Dean," Alex corrected crossly. "Sam promised him that he'd wait to go to hell until Dean was back, but when we couldn't get a hold of him … we just couldn't waste time we didn't have, Cas." She settled down into her seat as Castiel guided the Continental onto the highway, sighing as she tucked her phone into her jacket pocket. Castiel didn't continue the conversation, so after a second she asked, "So, how was Gaza?"

"It was a waste of time." Castiel's frustration returned, and Alex reached out to put a hesitant hand on his thigh. "There was nothing about the Darkness, and there was nothing new in regards to your deal. Dean told me about how Crowley treated you —"

"I can take a bit of embarrassment. Don't worry about that." Alex scoffed, her tone harder than she had intended. "You heard about what Amara did at that church, right? Sam called it a massacre. _That_ should take priority." Castiel inhaled, but Alex broke into his protestations. "We're having to summon _Lucifer_ , Cas. That should tell you how freaking important this Darkness is."

"The Darkness isn't more important you," Castiel retorted, and Alex dug her nails into her palms.

"The _Darkness_ is going to destroy a whole hell of a lot more than my deal will if she isn't stopped! Come on, Cas! Get a grip on reality, won't you —" Realizing that she was shouting, Alex cut off, but it was too late; Castiel visibly winced, his wings drawing in close, and Alex dropped her eyes to her lap. "Sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean it like that." One wing shifted outwards, the sharp, broken vanes brushing against his. "I — this whole thing has me stressed —"

"I understand." Castiel's voice was hollow, and Alex's nails dug into her palms as she cursed under her breath. "You've made your position clear before, but it still won't change my answer."

"Okay, how about the fact that Crowley knows that you're looking for something, and he doesn't care?" Alex's voice sharpened again, but she kept it quiet. "He knows you're not going to find anything in — in Athens, or in Alexandria, or anywhere else you want to go!" Her nails dug in tighter to the point of pain, and she drew in a deep, harsh breath. "I don't want to fight, Cas —"

"Are you sure?" She felt the seraph bristle as he spoke, his voice tight. "Because it's all you seem to do." His eyes stayed focused on the road, his jaw clenched, and Alex snapped her mouth shut. She crossed her arms, choosing silence as her answer, and she leaned up against the side of the door as the conversation was swallowed up by the tense air.

...

 **T** he radio hummed through the broken speakers, a quiet, haunting tune that Alex didn't quite recognize. Her fingers drummed on her thigh, moving along to the melody as she stared blankly out the passenger-side window. Castiel sat beside her, as still as a stone. Some of the tension had left his wings, but he had reconstructed the wall around his grace, the knot tied tight with his frustration — because of her deal, he had claimed. Alex heaved a sigh, shifting so she could press her forehead up against the cool glass. Her deal was pressing up against her chest, urging her forward to find Dean. It thrummed, a building, anxious pressure, and she almost threw open the door when the Continental rounded the bend in the highway. "Cas, there."

The Impala was on the side of the road, the engine still roaring, and tires squealed as Castiel slammed on the brakes. He pulled the Continental off the pavement, and Alex jumped out as soon as the car came to a stop. "Dean?"

The Winchester was on the ground, his back up against the sleek black body of the car as he retched. "Dean." Castiel echoed her, slamming the car door behind him, and Alex rushed up to the hunter's side. "I came as soon as you called. Are you alright?"

"C-Cas?" Dean lifted his head, his eyes narrowed against the light, and Alex dropped down in front of him, taking his head in her hands. His pupils were dilated despite the sun, and she shifted back as Dean emptied his stomach onto the ground once again.

"You're not alright." Castiel put his hand on Dean's shoulder as the Winchester wiped his mouth off on his sleeve. His hand moved up to Dean's forehead, his grace slipping inwards before he pulled Dean's eyelid up with his thumb.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, his words slurring, and his green eyes flickered over to Alex.

She shrugged, but Castiel ignored the question with a disinterested flick of his wings. "Stick out your tongue," he ordered.

Dean did as he was commanded, his tongue flattening so Castiel could peer at the back of his throat. Castiel frowned, and Dean snapped his mouth shut. "Alright, are we done?" He struggled to sit up further, but Castiel held him down.

"Let me take your temperature —"

"No." Dean knocked Castiel's hand away, and his skull collided with the Impala as he jerked backwards. "That's not going to happen." He rubbed at the back of his head with a scowl, and Alex gently nudged Castiel aside so she could take his place.

The seraph settled back onto his heels with a frown. "How far are we from the event?" he asked, his head craning upwards as he looked back up the road.

"You mean the angel nuke?" Dean snapped, and when Castiel nodded, the hunter scowled. "Ground zero is about a mile away." He jerked his thumb off to the left, and Alex hesitantly probed her grace outwards into Dean. She put a hand on his solid chest, an avenue for it to permeate past his skin, but she pulled back when Castiel touched her shoulder.

"You can't help him," he murmured. "Smiting sickness," he explained when Dean made a questioning sound.

" _Ane teloch_ ," Alex quickly added."It sounds better in Enochian."

"The angels … what they did … it released a tremendous amount of energy and there's fallout, so this whole area is poisoned." Castiel's grace twisted through the air, crackling with displeasure. "Not even I can heal you, and the closer you get to the blast site, the worse your sickness will become."

Dean groaned as another wave of nausea swept over him and he retched, but nothing but bile came up. "How worse?" he asked as he wiped his mouth off with his jacket.

"The last time there was a smiting of this magnitude … Lot's wife turned to salt." Castiel's forehead creased as he looked down at the Winchester, his eyes darkening with concern.

Dean groaned again, a softer, subdued noise, and Alex's fingers curled into fists. "Dean, I need you to come with me," she burst out. "Rowena found the right spell, and everyone's in hell. Crowley sent me to —"

"Hell." Dean straightened up, and his voice sharpened, losing some of the raspiness that it had held before. "Sam's in hell. Right now."

"With Lucifer." Alex moved backward as Dean pushed himself to his feet, steadying himself on the Impala as his legs shook. Castiel jumped up to help him, his hand wrapping around Dean's bicep to keep him on his feet. "Yes. I'm supposed to take you back there."

The Winchester hesitated, his eyes turning back down the road. "We — we gotta see if … if Amara is alive or dead," he started, but his fists balled at his side. "That son of a bitch …"

"The fallout doesn't affect angels." Castiel began, and Alex stood up, her wings drawn in close. "I'll go in alone."

"I have to get you back to hell," Alex quickly added. "Those are my orders, and I have to follow them even if that means throwing you in that damn trunk." She shifted impatiently on the gravel as Dean hesitated once again. " _Now_ , Dean."

Dean reached for the car door, and Alex hurried around to the passenger side. "Hey, Cas?" Dean turned back towards the seraph. "If it did work and she is dead, bring her body out."

Castiel paused, his face blank and expressionless. "And if she's not?"

"Run."

Dean slid into the car with a grimace, and Alex's fingers wrapped around the door handle before she hesitated. "Cas," she started, and the seraph's eyes swung onto her. For several seconds, she just stared at him, her tongue suddenly thick and awkward in her mouth. "Uh … be careful," she finally said, and she quickly turned away and climbed into the Impala. A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed that Castiel had returned to his car. "We're headed for Kenesaw," she instructed. "Do … do you want me to drive?"

"No." The Impala lurched forward down the highway, and Alex tucked her legs underneath her as Dean scowled. "You let Sam go to hell? What the fuck, Alex?"

"Hey!" Alex's broken feathers puffed out in indignation. "What did you want me to do, Winchester? Sam was too determined to go, Rowena doesn't give a shit about what I say, and I have to do _whatever_ Crowley tells me to. Hell, you're lucky that he actually sent me after you, because otherwise I'd still be in hell and you would have no idea where we were."

"What?" Dean recoiled in surprise. "Are you defending him?!"

"No! No way." Alex pinched at the bridge of her nose, her eyes screwed up as her deal pulsed. "Something … something's wrong. I'm doing what he wants, but it's not getting better." Her hands moved upwards, gripping at her head. "We need to get there faster."

...

 **T** he Impala's tires squealed as Dean slammed on the brakes, and Alex rolled out of the car, her wings shaking out as soon as her feet hit the pavement. "This way." She waved Dean on towards the small shop set into the wall. She knocked on the metal door, her grace slipping out to unlock it, but a force stopped her. "Hey." She pounded on the door again, her voice rising. "Billie, let us in."

A metal slot slid open with a clang, and dark eyes peered outwards. "What's the password?"

"Seriously? I was just here two hours ago." The slot slammed shut, and Alex rolled her eyes. "Come on, Bille! I swear, if you don't open this up, I'm going to have Crowley kick your ass!" No answer came, and the angel shifted impatiently on the sidewalk.

"Just give her the password," Dean hissed, and Alex shoved her hands into her pocket.

"Fine," she retorted, and she used her grace pound against the door once again. "Come on, Billie. Camptown ladies sing this song, do dah, do dah," she recited. "Now open up."

The metal slot slid open, and Billie peered out through narrowed eyes. "Sing it."

"That's all of the song I know," Alex snapped. "Now open up this damn door or I swear to _God_ I'm coming in by force."

She pushed her grace up against the door to prove her point, and it shook under the force. A moment later the lock clicked open, and the metal door swung open to reveal Billie, her arms crossed. "You must be Dean," the reaper began, and Alex slipped past her with a shake of her head. "I'm Billie."

"Demon?" When Billie shook her head, Dean frowned. "The reaper?" He hesitated on the threshold, only moving forward when Billie stepped out of the way to give him space. "My brother says you want to kill us."

"No." Billie closed the door behind him with a chuckle. "I'm just gonna make sure that when you die, you stay dead. Subtle difference."

Alex stopped in her tracks. "Sam never mentioned a reaper to me."

"It's not important." Billie brushed aside her question, and Alex's lips pursed, but her impatience didn't let her push the subject. "Here." The reaper held out a flat wooden box towards her. "For the Limey."

"What is it?" Alex's grace probed inwards as she took it, and she ran her palm over the smooth lid.

"That's none of your business," Billie promised, and when Alex's wings rose, she held up a finger. "Ah. You work for Crowley. I work with him. I believe that puts me above you."

"How about I kill you, and when we'll see —" Dean's hand on her shoulder had Alex falling silent, and she forced her wings down. "Just open the damn door to hell, okay? We're on a schedule." She shook off Dean's touch as she walked over to the warded door, her fingers tapping impatiently along the side of the box. Billie stepped up beside her, placing her palm against the metal. The white chalk wardings sparkled like embers, and the door clicked as it opened. A staircase unfolded behind it, stretching downwards into the shadows. "Watch your step," Billie warned. "It's a long way down."

Alex started down the stairs, glancing back to make sure that Dean was following as the door closed behind them. "Come on. We've got a long way to go."

"How far down are we going?" Dean lengthen his stride to pass her, and Alex awkwardly tried to tuck the box under her arm before she returned to pressing it up against her chest.

"I stopped counting at two hundred. So pace yourself." Her deal rose as she spoke, and the angel struggled to keep it under control as she hurried after Dean.

The further they descended, the hotter the air became, and the wretched stink of sulfur began to drift up from the blackened air. Every few seconds a scream echoed off of the walls, sometimes distant, sometimes too close for comfort, and Alex found herself falling behind as Dean hurried down the smoldering steps.

The staircase curved, and the first landing came into view. Crowley stood at the bottom, his foot tapping against the stone as he waited. "Welcome to hell."

"Where's Sam?" Dean stopped in front of the demon, his eyes probing the darkness beyond them.

Crowley let out a quiet scoff. "Don't you worry about Sam —"

"I'm sorry, have you met me?"

"Sam happens to be in the cage with Lucifer. I know, I know," he promised when Alex's eyes stretched wide, "a small hiccup, but don't worry. Lucifer needs the moose. He's not going to kill him. Probably." Dean opened his mouth, ready to yell, but Crowley cut in with a click of his tongue. "You versus the devil — trust me, there's easier ways to commit suicide. And I'm not letting you anywhere near him," he added to Alex. "What we need to focus on is Rowena."

"Sam's _in_ the cage. With Lucifer." Alex prayed her voice didn't tremble as she spoke. "Do you — you think Rowena botched the spell on purpose?" When Crowley nodded, Alex reached back for her weapon, balancing the wooden box in one hand. "Okay, great. Then I'll kill her."

"Easier said than done, I'm afraid." Crowley reached for the latch on the box, and Alex reluctantly let her weapon go to instead support the box she held. "And we need Mother to slam the devil back into his hole."

"Well, is she going to play ball?" Dean's foot tapped impatiently, and Alex tried to peer around the lid to see what lay inside the box.

"She doesn't have a choice." From within the box, Crowley removed a thick iron ring, the inner side laced with pointed iron spikes. "It's called a witchcatcher," he explained, and Alex's stomach sunk as she realized what it was. A collar. A leather strap lay inside the circle, designed to protect the neck from the pointed ends, and from the back dangled a long iron chain. Crowley hefted it with a thin smile. "Most of them were destroyed after the Inquisition, but, ah, Billie came through."

"Yeah, she's a peach," Dean agreed sardonically. "What does it do?"

"You're going to love this." Crowley motioned off towards the ground, and Alex obediently leaned the box up against the wall behind her. "Come with me." He started off down the hall, and Alex fell in step behind him as Dean walked at his side. "It's a witchcatcher," he began. "Does exactly what it sounds like." He turned it over in his hands, his fingers running across the spikes. "It subdues and compels them to do whatever the person who holds this leash says."

"And how do we get it on her, huh?" Dean's step faltered slightly as Crowley handed him the device, and he glanced back at Alex with a frown.

"You'll see. Stay outside until I speak with her. Alex, with me." He beckoned her forward with a finger, and the angel obediently followed him down the hall. A metal door lay ahead, arching high and carved with intricate spires and whorls, and Alex couldn't help but let her grace trickle out to feel the room that lay beyond.

Crowley led the way through, and Alex paused at the threshold, letting her eyes turn across the stone room. The ceiling stretched high above her head, the stone so high that the torchlight failed to reach it, and Alex had to let her grace rise up so she could see the slanted tops. An oak table sat as the centerpiece to the room, complete with two skillful iron-wrought chairs. Rowena stood just beyond them, her eyes on the flickering fire that danced in the large fireplace. She didn't turn as they entered, choosing only to sip her tea before asking, "How's Dean?"

"Pardon?" Crowley's steps faltered, and he glanced back at Alex with a tight-lipped frown; the angel hardly paid attention, her eyes still taking in the darkened room around her.

"Little tip, love," she heard Rowena say. "The next time you go about making secret plans, check your pockets."

Crowley reached into his jacket pocket, his shoulders tightening as he pulled out a small, thumb-sized hex bag. He studied it for a moment before he tossed it to Alex, and the angel let her grace flow through her hand and into bag. It exploded into flames as it fell to the ground, and she ground out the embers with the heel of her shoe. "You heard?" Crowley asked.

"Everything." Rowena sipped her tea as Crowley walked up to stand at her side, and she turned her head to watch Dean stepped into the room, witchcatcher in hand.

"Not that it matters," Crowley continued, and Rowena turned back to him with a small smile.

"What does that mean, big boy?" she asked as she watched Alex approach, and the angel kept her chin raised high, her hand ready to draw her weapon should the need arise.

She glanced at Crowley from the corner of her eye, but the King of Hell didn't bat an eye at Rowena's scorn. "A little tip, Mother. Never accept a cup of tea from someone who loathes you."

Rowena chuckled, but the sound turned into a hoarse cough, then a breathless choke. The teacup slipped from Rowena's hands and crashed to the ground, and Alex shifted back as the porcelain set shattered, sending shards in every direction. The witch's eyes grew wide as she doubled over, gasping for air, and Dean surged forward, unclasping the collar and wrapping it around her neck. Rowena screamed as it closed, and she strained towards Dean. "Get this bloody thing off of me!" Her nails clawed at the iron, her face red with rage, but the iron latch refused to budge.

"I would," Crowley said, "but this 'bloody thing' makes you my slave." He held up the small chain leash, and Rowena scoffed at the idea. "Hop on one foot."

Rowena's eyes sharpened at the command, and she drew herself up as tall as she could. "Please, Fergus. I don't know what kind of Oedipal Fifty Shades you think you're playing at, but if you think for one second …" She trailed off slowly as her body moved against her will, and Alex couldn't help but grin as horror spread across the witch's face as she looked down to see that she was slowly bouncing up and down on one foot. "Bollocks."

"Yeah, welcome to my world," Alex muttered, and she turned her attention onto the empty table behind them. "Time to work on that spell."

"You —" Rowena drew in a ragged, fierce breath, and the angel cast a glance over her shoulder. "You think Lucifer would ever allow that?" She lifted her chin as Alex turned fully to face her, and Alex's wings twitched.

"Doesn't matter," Crowley rasped. "Get started." The firelight caught in his eyes, and Rowena scowled as her body moved her forward against her will. With a wave of Crowley's hand, the Book of the Damned and the codex appeared on the polished wood table, and Alex moved so she was standing across from Rowena.

"So you're actually working for Lucifer, huh?" she asked, a side-long glance cast in Dean's direction as the hunter circled around past her, his eyes flickering across the dark stone walls. "How'd that happen?"

"Lucifer came to me in a dream." Rowena held her head high as she spoke, even as her hands moved to turn through the Book of the Damned. Alex stiffened, and the witch's lips curled into a smirk. "Don't act so entitled, dear. He didn't mention anything about you."

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw Dean pause, his head turned to listen to their conversation, and the angel shook out her wings with a thin scoff. "I don't know what you're talking about," she retorted. "Come on, Rowena. So you're just gonna let some guy waltz into your dreams and tell you what to do without a first date? Seems a bit sketchy to me."

"Lucifer is no 'guy.' " Rowena's eyes dropped down to the Book of the Damned as she spoke, but she drew herself up taller. "He's … perfection. Why do you think I let Crowley's droogs find me? It was all part of Lucifer's plan."

"Right. Because his plans have always been in the best interest of everybody." Dean returned to the table, his brow creased in anger. "You know he's just going to kill everyone, right? What's in it for you?"

Rowena didn't immediately answer, her finger leisurely tracing the lettering on the page before her. "Well," she finally began, "he'll stop the Darkness, for one. And once Lucifer's won, he'll ascend to his throne in Heaven … and I'll be by his side, a loyal follower."

"You'll be dead before you even get there." Alex's palms pressed into the wooden table as she leaned forward, her wings arching high above her head. "And on the off-chance Lucifer doesn't kill you, _I_ will."

"You really think he's going to choose _you_ over me?" Rowena's eyes flashed with indignation, and she leaned forward to meet the angel's challenge. "And what exactly have you done for him, hmm? He came to _me_ , remember?"

"That's enough," Crowley ordered, and Rowena moved backwards, her eyes turning back onto the Book as if nothing had happened. Alex remained still, her broken feathers raised threateningly, and Crowley cleared his throat. "Alex, I said that's enough."

Alex pushed herself away from the table with a quiet snarl. She lifted her wings, ready to shake them out, but they stayed high at the sight of Crowley's smirk. "You think this is fun?" she spat.

"Having both of you under my thumb?" Crowley tugged slightly on the iron chain, and it jingled. "Yes. Absolutely." Alex's wings stretched higher, and the King of Hell clicked his tongue. "Ah, ah. Unless you want a matching leash, I suggest you stay quiet."

Despite his light tone, the threat in his words were clear, and Alex forced her wings to lower into a neutral position. Satisfied, Crowley turned his attention back onto Rowena, and Alex stepped away with a scowl. "Finding anything, Mother?"

The witch hesitated, but the collar compelled her to answer. "I think I've found it," she reluctantly announced, and Alex watched her turn the page of the Book. "I'll need a few things."

"Such as?"

"Aconite, dogwood, and …" Rowena's gaze dropped back down to the book before she sniffed. "Lotus."

With a snap of Crowley's fingers, three jars appeared on the table. "There. Now get to work."

Rowena _tsked_ at his tone, but she reached for the jar of dogwood without hesitation. "So this spell is supposed to slam Lucifer back in the box," Dean began, looking up from where he was pacing near the fireplace. "How long's this gonna take?"

"About five minutes." Rowena peered inside the jar at the ingredients, her eyes unreadable as she studied the dried, pressed leaves. "Unless Sam says yes."

"And if he does?"

Rowena swirled the bottle of suspended locus leaves, ignoring Crowley's sharp words. "If Lucifer finds a vessel," she began, stifling a smile, "he'll be anchored to earth. The incantation won't work."

"And then we're screwed." Dean's boot scuffed against the stone in an act of agitation, and Alex turned, ready to answer, but the sound of rushed footsteps had any thoughts of a reply leaving her mind. Two sets of footsteps, one familiar, one not, and Alex's eyes swung towards the open door.

A demon hurried through, his breathing hard and fast. "I-I'm sorry my lord," he gasped, "I tried to —"

Castiel shoved his way past him, his eyes dark and his chin angled down, and Alex felt herself shift backwards, surprised by the intensity in his gaze. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, catching in the flickering torchlight, and his white shirt was unbuttoned, the tie nowhere to be found. "Oh good, the angel is here," Crowley muttered, but Alex barely heard him.

"Cas?" She rushed forward, her wings curling past her to reach for him, but the look in the seraph's eyes had her drawing up short just in front of him. "H-How did you get here so fast? Where — is Amara…?"

"She's … she's alive." The seraph rasped out each word as he fought to catch his breath, and his eyes moved past Alex to seek out Dean. "She … she sent this message." He pulled open his shirt to reveal his bare chest, the flesh mutilated in the shape of grotesque letters.

" 'I am coming,' " Crowley read. "Is that a threat?"

"Or a promise," Dean added darkly, and Alex ghosted her hands over the carved letters, her grace dancing lightly across the flesh. She felt Castiel's grace rise up to meet her as he took her wrist in her hand, and Alex's gaze sharpened as he pushed her help away. He readjusted his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons, but a scream had both him and Dean freezing.

"Sam!"

Dean rushed past Alex, almost knocking the angel off balance in his haste, and Castiel wheeled around to follow. "Don't!" Crowley's shout stopped Alex from following, and she looked back at the demon, her wings raised high in alarm. "Don't you dare," he snapped. "It's suicide."

"He's going to _kill_ them." Alex hurried back over to the table, her eyes stretched as wide as she could get them. "Crowley, please! Let me go. Maybe — maybe I can t-talk with him, you know, distract him until Rowena finishes."

"You think that I'm letting you — _you_ — anywhere near Lucifer?" The table shook as Crowley planted his hands upon it, and Alex dug her teeth into her cheek to avoid from flinching away at his anger. Rowena looked down at her spell to hide her smirk, and the King of Hell scowled. "What is it with you women? You're both delusional."

"Please! I — I'll promise anything you want, just —" Her wings trembled as she heard Dean shout. "I can't just stand here a-and do nothing!" Alex watched as Crowley circled around the table, and she pressed her grace up against him, tugging desperately at the deal. Her wings fell down, a submissive, pleading gesture, and she felt her knees shake as he gave pause.

A pained shout echoed through the room — Sam or Dean, Alex couldn't tell — and Crowley's fingers grasped her chin, his skin hot and dry. "Go," he instructed, "but you will _not_ let him out. We'll talk about reparations afterwards." The glint in his eye had Alex's grace quiver in fear, but she managed a faint, determined nod. Crowley dropped his hand, and Alex tore out of the room and down the hall.

Her shoes slipped on the worn stone as she turned the corner, and her broken wings beat once to try and propel her faster down the stairs. The flat plain stretched out before her, broken only by the silhouette of the iron cage. It writhed with movement from within; one figure was slumped in the corner while three others were locked together, grappling for control.

The tallest one — Sam — hit the ground, and Lucifer's wings stretched out as he slammed Dean into the side of the cage, holding him there by the throat. "Hey!" Alex pushed her feet harder, and Lucifer's head turned, his wings arching high as he caught sight of her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw Castiel surge forward, and the two angels fell, wings flashing as they fought for the upper hand. Dean collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as he pulled himself towards his brother, and Alex slid to a stop beside the table, suddenly frozen in place. Lucifer had Castiel pinned against the cage, one hand on his coat, the other wrapped around the seraph's throat. Castiel's mouth hung open, his eyes stretched wide at the pressure against his trachea, but Lucifer's attention had turned away from him. "There you are." His voice rumbled, a pleased purr, and he chuckled as Castiel tried to pry the hand away from his throat with a breathless gasp. "What was that?" The devil leaned forward, his ear close to Castiel's lips, but his eyes never left hers even as he spoke. "I, I didn't quite catch that."

"Lucifer …" Alex forced her legs to move her forward. "Let — let them go." Her eyes flickered down to Sam and Dean, but they, against her will, sought out the archangel once again. "I —"

The cage exploded into a bright, light white, and Alex jumped back with a wordless shout. The impact knocked her legs out from under her, and she hit the smoldering ground, instinctively covering her head with her hands. Then, as quickly as the flash was there, it was gone, and the hellish heat that had been sucked away returned. Alex scrambled to her feet, eyes wide as she searched the cage, but Lucifer was gone.

Her chest twisted, and the angel's hands went up to press against her ribs. They weren't bruised from the fall — was that disappointment? Dean groaned, and Aex grit her teeth as she shoved the feeling down.

She pushed herself up onto the platform and slipped through the bars, eyes sweeping across the three in front of her before she finally dropped down next to Sam. Blood flowed freely from a cut above his eye, seeping through his fingers as he tried to staunch the flow, and Alex knocked his hand away to replace it with her own. The cut healed beneath her touch, and Alex pulled away only to slap the Winchester across the cheek with the same hand. "You idiot!" she exploded. "What were you thinking, going into the cage with him? You could have been killed! This is exactly why I said you shouldn't do this!"

Sam touched his cheek, stunned at the blow, and Alex grit her teeth to quell her anger as she looked over at Dean and Castiel. The seraph was staggering to his feet, his hands feeling at his chest as if to confirm that he really was there, and his broken blue wings trembled as he leaned against the cage to support his weight. Their eyes met only for the shortest of seconds before he broke away, his eyes darting down to the ground.

"I didn't …" Sam's words had Alex turning back to him, and he scowled as he rubbed at his stinging cheek. "I didn't want to come in here. He … Lucifer must have …" He heaved himself to his feet, panting at the effort, and Alex rose up alongside him.

"Yeah, we know." Dean spat onto the ground. "Rowena did it on purpose." He slid through the bars and dropped back down onto the ground, hissing in pain at the motion. Alex nudged Sam after him, and Castiel took up the rear, hesitating momentarily in the cage before he slowly followed.

"Hey. You okay?" Alex curled her wings towards him, concern sharpening in her tone, and she reached out, but Castiel quickly shied away from her touch.

"Yes," he promised, his grace drawn in close, and Alex frowned as he hurried after Dean. She fell in step beside Sam as they moved away from the cage, eyes turned towards the stairs where two figures were hurrying downwards. They reached the landing before Dean and Cas reached them, and Alex watched how Crowley's eyes turned past their party towards the empty cage.

Rowena stood by her son's side, a smile that didn't reach her eyes decorating her face. "You're welcome … anyone?"

"Bite me!" Dean snapped, stopping in front of them, and Alex frowned to see him favoring his right leg.

She slipped past Sam as the demon motioned her forward. "I can have her do that," he joked as Alex settled at his side, her wings drawn in tight against her back. Her eyes flickered onto Castiel, but the seraph refused to look in her direction. His grace was knotted tightly against hers, pushing back to keep her away, and Alex probed angrily at his grace, colder than she remembered.

"So, what now?" she heard Sam ask, and she turned back to the Winchesters with an angered sniff.

"About the Darkness?" Crowley shook his head. "No clue. But this has been a horrible train wreck, so we're done. Team up over." He watched as Sam and Dean exchanged looks that quickly flickered over to Rowena, and he twisted the thin chain in his hands. "She stays," he promised. "The rest of you lot …" His voice rose, his anger finally spilling over, "get the hell out of hell!"

He pointed up the stairs, catching Alex by the jacket collar as she turned to follow Sam and Dean upwards. "We'll talk about what you owe me later," he warned, his frustrations compressed into a low growl. "Don't go far."

He released her, and Alex hurried after the Winchesters and her mate, her wings tucked in against her back at his tone. She paused a flight up, glancing back over her shoulder towards the empty cage, and her grace twisted within her chest. "Stop it." Alex hissed the words out, pushing down the disappointment that had wrapped itself around her heart, but the words only had it tightening further. She willed her feet to move and her eyes to turn away, but it took several seconds for her to work up the courage to turn her back to the cage and continue up the stairs.

The uphill climb was silent, the only sounds the weary thud of boots on the worn stone steps. The higher they tread, the cooler the air became, and Alex heard both brothers draw in deep breaths as they reached the last flight of stairs that lead up to the gate to hell.

Billie was there when they emerged; the reaper was reclined in the corner, a book in her hands, and she barely spared them a glance as they stepped out into the crowded shop. Alex shook out her wings the moment they crossed out onto the street, trying to force the anxiety and disappointment out of her body. "You alright?" Dean's voice stirred her from her thoughts, and she glanced towards him to find his attention focused on Castiel.

The seraph had stopped outside the shop, his face screwed up in a mixture of confusion and discomfort. He looked up as Dean spoke, and his face quickly snapped back into its stony, expressionless look. "I think so," he began before nodding. "I will be."

"You want me to give you a lift?" Dean jerked his thumb back towards the Impala, but Castiel shook his head.

"No, you three go on ahead." His eyes moved past Dean and landed on Sam, skipping over Alex completely, and Alex's wings bristled. "I'll catch up."

"Okay." Dean turned away, and Alex only followed when Sam's hand brushed across her shoulder, gently tugging her after him. She flicked a wing in Castiel's direction, a sharp, silent gesture, before she followed Sam back to the Impala.

"Is he alright?" he murmured, pausing by her door, and Alex glanced up to find his head ducked so he could look her in the eyes. "He seems …"

"I don't know." Alex shook her head, unsure what to say. "He won't even let me near him." She cast a look behind her towards Castiel, but the seraph refused to meet her gaze, his navy wings drawn in tightly against his back. She climbed into the back of the Impala with a frustrated sigh, and the door slammed shut behind her.

"I don't know." Sam responded to a question Alex didn't hear, and she turned her attention onto the brothers. "I mean, what … what if Lucifer was telling the truth, you know, what if he's the only …"

"No." The engine started, and Dean firmly shook his head. "Dude, the Darkness is bad. Her and the devil, that's a _nightmare_."

Alex tuned his words out, focusing her attention on her grace. She could feel Castiel's grace within hers, straining at the knots that bound it to hers as he tried to pull away. She probed at it, surprised at its sudden coldness; Castiel's grace had always been so warm, like a sunny day, but now it felt like fall breeze. Chilling, biting. Unpleasantly unfamiliar. It kept growing colder and colder with each passing second, and when Alex pushed back against it, it snapped. It shattered into a million pieces, leaving behind nothing but ice.

No. It couldn't be.

The Impala's tires screeched as Alex threw open the car door, sliding to a stop in the middle of the street. "What the fuck?" Dean threw the car into park as he twisted around, but Alex was already out of the car.

"S-Sorry," she hurriedly apologized. "I can't stay. I — I have to go to Cas." She could still feel Castiel's grace, but it was just a whisper of a touch, tucked away in the corner of her being. "Something's up, a-and I should be there for him." She hesitated, grey eyes flickering between Sam and Dean as she waited for their approval; the moment Sam nodded, she slammed the door and took off down the street.

...

 **C** astiel was gone from the alleyway by the time Alex reached it, and she slid to a stop in front of the small locked shop. "Cas?" Alex stretched her grace out, searching for her mate, but he was nowhere to be found. "Billie!" She rapped on the metal door, her foot tapping impatiently as she waited for the reaper to answer.

The eye slot slid open, and Alex straightened up under Billie's scrutinizing stare. "I figured you'd be back." The door unlocked and swung open, and Alex hurriedly stepped through. "You're looking for him, aren't you?" The door slammed shut behind her, and Alex's eye scanned the small, crowded shop. Billie crossed over to the warded door, and it opened beneath her touch. "Go on."

Alex pushed down an anxious twinge before she swept forward, her feathers rustling nervously as the heavy door slammed shut behind her. The coldness against her grace was welcome against the heat of hell, and Alex lifted a prayer as she rushed down the stairs. _Cas? What — what the hell's going on?_

No answer came, and Alex jumped down the last few steps, landing on the stone floor with a _thud_. "Hey!" A demon hurried forward, his eyes flashing black at the sight of her. "You —"

In one fluid motion, Alex drew her angel blade and lunged forward; the demon collapsed to the ground with a shout, a clean hole through the center of his vessel. A second demon confronted her, following behind the first, and Alex deflected a punch and pushed him up against the wall with a quick jab of her palm. She brought her other hand up to rest on his forehead, her grace snapping outwards, and he too died with a strangled cry.

She pushed her way into the hellish room she had been in before, but it was empty. Only the fireplace still danced with life. With a frown she moved onwards, not sure where she was headed, but the ice inside her drew her down the twisting halls. A large set of iron double doors lay ahead of her, and Alex forced her way through, her wings flaring out wide as she took in the room, an exact replica to Crowley's throne room on earth. Demons scattered, leaving a single figure standing in front of the iron throne. Familiar blue eyes twinkled, but large, crimson wings flicked in annoyance. "Was killing my demons _really_ necessary?"

Alex lifted her chin even as she felt her wings fall low with a tremble. "They got in my way," she defended.

Lucifer chuckled, and he glided forward across the stone to stand in front of her. "Come on," he said with a small, mocking pout, "don't be that way. It's just little old me." His hands grabbed her hips, tugging her closer to him, and his head dipped as he whispered, "Aren't you going to ask how I got out?"

"Where — where's Castiel?" Alex's good eye flickered up and down Castiel's — _Lucifer's_ — form, and she pressed her grace up against him as his trench coat brushed against her chest. She probed forward, searching for Castiel, but all she met was Lucifer, a familiar rush of cold stronger than she had ever remembered. "Is he okay?"

"Castiel is fine … for now." Lucifer's teasing words were overshadowed by his hand that came up to cup her cheek. His touch was light, almost reverent, and Alex's wings dropped even further. "He's tucked away in here, safe and sound. Can you feel him? Because I can feel you." The ice inside of her jumped, and Alex's grace recoiled in surprise as his grip on her chin tightened. "You took him as your mate. I can _feel_ your bond."

"He … he was there for me." Alex's jaw twitched at the pressure, and she prayed her words didn't shake as she spoke. "You were in the Cage."

"And now I'm not." Lucifer fell silent for a moment, his fingers drumming curiously on her jaw as he studied her face, and Alex felt her cheeks flush as his blue gaze lingered on her blind eye. She tensed, expecting questions, but the archangel simply clicked his tongue. "You could feel it the moment I took control, couldn't you? That's why you came running." His fingers paused, and his voice darkened. "You should be my mate."

Alex blinked, her face hardening as the moment was lost. "Wow. Really?"

Lucifer grinned. "I'm bigger," he reminded, his crimson wings stretching out emphasize his words, and Alex used the distraction to slide out of his grasp.

"I chose Castiel." She pressed her grace up against him, trying in vain to feel for him. "I — I'm loyal to my mate." She pushed harder, but all she felt was Lucifer.

"Alex. I _am_ your mate." Lucifer's voice deepened, his shoulders hunching as his whole demeanor changed. He straightened up when Alex frowned. "Ah, come on! I thought it was pretty good."

"You're doing it wrong," Alex snapped. "T-The voice, you don't sound like Cas." Her wings were still down — Alex quickly drew them back up against her back. "How …"

"How did I jump ship, catch a ride out of the Cage?" Lucifer tapped his chin as he thought, his eyes still locked with hers, and Alex couldn't look away. She could feel that there were others in the room — she could feel that Crowley was nearby — but she couldn't tear her eyes away. "Well, my plan was to ride on the Sam-train, but Cas … he all but threw himself at my feet." He sidled forward with a grin, once again pushing himself into Alex's personal space. "He _knew_ I could fight the Darkness and take care of you, everything that he couldn't."

"Sam's —"

"His visions?" Amusement sparked in Lucifer's eyes, and his tongue darted out to lick at his lips as he grinned. "That was me. You see, when the Darkness got loose, the impact on hell was massive. The Cage was damaged. And through those cracks, I was able to reach out wherever I wanted. And I found Sam."

"And Rowena." Alex spat out the name, and her wings rose angrily. "Speaking of, where is she? I've got a few scores to settle with your 'queen.' "

Lucifer chuckled, a low, quiet sound that rumbled through his chest. "At least I still have your jealousy," he teased, and the pads of his finger dusted across her cheek as he leaned forward. "Rowena was the only one who could open my Cage again. So …. I killed her."

His teeth flashed in a grin, his breath cold against her lips, and Alex put a hand on his chest. She meant push him away, but she couldn't muster the strength; instead, she just pressed against his shirt, fingers curling in the cold fabric. "You killed her," she repeated, and Lucifer nodded. "You killed the — the one person who could read the Book of the Damned? That — it had spells about removing the Mark and opening up your Cage, so don't you think there's something about resurrecting your old vessel?"

"Nick?" Lucifer's head tilted. "He wasn't strong."

"We could make him stronger. But you, inside Cas?" Alex jammed her forefinger into his sternum. "The Winchesters are going to know something's up. We should get you out and away from their suspicions." She reached up to pinch at the bridge of her nose. "You killed her," she repeated. "Where?"

"In some room." Lucifer dismissed the question with a shrug.

"The … the one down the hall. With the fireplace and the table with all of Rowena's spell stuff." Alex watched Lucifer nod, and she pursed her lips together in a frown. "What did you do with the body?"

The archangel shrugged. "Just left it. I'll have someone else take care of it."

"Okay, well I was just in that room … and it's empty." Alex shifted backwards so she could cross her arms, and the slightest flicker of surprise passed across his face. "Are you sure …"

Lucifer's head tipped back in a scoffing laugh. "Are you suggesting I don't know how to kill someone?"

"Alex." The sound of Crowley's voice had Alex jumping back, and she tore her gaze off of Lucifer in search of the demon. He was kneeling in the corner of the room beside the black throne, forced onto his hands and knees by the iron collar around his neck. "Do something!" he hissed.

Fear sparked in his eyes as Lucifer turned, and Alex felt her deal rise within her, but it felt dulled, almost distant beneath Lucifer's grace. "Ah ah." Lucifer clicked his tongue. "What did I say about speaking?" Crowley hunched over even further, and Lucifer turned back to her. "Now, Castiel mentioned something of a little deal." With a snap of his fingers, the deal rose up, and Alex tried to hold back a gasp as it surfaced, the black letters of her contract prickling at her pale skin. She watched as the flickering candlelight played across the elegant, sweeping script; with it pulled upwards, she could acutely feel Crowley's terror thrumming through her veins. Lucifer _tsked_ again, and his voice grew dark. "Crowley, Crowley, Crowley. I thought I made myself clear last time that should keep your hands off of my things."

"Luce …"

A flick of his grace had Alex falling silent, and her eyes darted down to Crowley. His mouth was parted as he searched for an excuse — any excuse — to Lucifer's statement. His eyes locked with hers, a desperate plea upon his face, and Alex felt her deal urge her forward again, stronger than before. The feeling, however, disappeared when Lucifer reached down to flick Crowley in the forehead. "Stop it," he chastised. "You took my throne, and you took my mate." Crowley's mouth fell open, and Lucifer tucked a thumb under the demon's chin to close it. "I know exactly what you've done. The moment I left, you chased her halfway across the country. You've trapped her, pawned her, and now you act like you own her." He grabbed Crowley's short hair and yanked his head up. "All while knowing that she is _mine_."

"Hey!" To her surprise, Alex's broken feathers ruffled angrily, and she took a step forward before halting as the archangel turned. "I don't _belong_ to you!"

The archangel chuckled at her indignation, his blue eyes alight with humor. "Oh, _le enay_ , you have always belonged to me." He snapped his fingers, and Alex's deal shattered.

Millions of tiny shards exploded outwards, and the blackened letters fractured and dissolved, leaving her skin as clear as it had ever been. She drew in a deep breath, gasping for air as if she had broken through the ice that had trapped her underwater.

An angel blade fell into Lucifer's hands, and he twirled it casually before he held it out, handle first. "Go ahead." He flicked a wing towards Crowley, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. "Do the honors."

Alex's fingers closed around the warm metal, but she hesitated, her eyes locked upon Crowley. The demon was cowering on the floor, his face broken and bloody, and despite everything, the angel felt a twinge of pity deep within. "No." Her fingers moved to Lucifer's wrist, staying his hand. "Don't kill him. He's … grown on me. And I think he'll be of use."

She looked up into the devil's face, wings curling forward as she readied herself to explain, but Lucifer shrugged, and the weapon vanished back up his sleeve. "See, this is why we're such a good team." He ambled over to the throne and dropped down, one leg draped casually across the armrest. "You, me, just the way it should be. Now, come on." He tapped his temple with a grin. "I've been rummaging around inside here, but I want to hear your side of the story. Tell me everything that I've missed."


	33. Into the Mystic

**January 5th, 2016**  
 **Hell**

 **T** orchlight flickered on the stone floor, casting its shadows across the room. Its heat was lost beneath the smoldering hell air, but Lucifer's fingers against the back of her neck was cool. Refreshing. Alex's eyes were slitted, half-closed as she leaned up against the archangel's leg, lost in the gentle _tap tap tap_ of his fingers against the iron armrest of his chair. She could feel his impatience thrumming through his skin, despite the outward coolness of his demeanor, and Alex finally opened her eyes and tilted her head back to look towards his face. "How long is this going to take?" she asked, struggling to keep the whine out of her voice. "I'm bored."

"I know." Lucifer's hand moved, brushing over her blind eye, and Alex looked away, her cheeks flushing. "They should be back soon." He shifted, leaning forward so his lips hovered close to her ear, his breath cool against her skin. "Once I have hell's allegiance, we can go wherever we want."

Alex's eye swept the room, passing across the bodies that lay scattered across the floor. Across the demons who had refused to bow and now served as a warning to any other demon who dared step foot through that door. "Where would you like to go? Back to earth?"

"Eventually." Lucifer's lips ghosted across the shell of her ear, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "But there's one place I promised to take you." He drew back, and Alex straightened up as footsteps entered the room. "Well?"

The demon skittered around the corpses as his eyes darted across the room, unsure where to rest his gaze. It finally landed on Alex, and then on Lucifer, and his jaw trembled as he spoke. "We've rounded them all up, s-sir. Only a few of them still call themselves Crowley's loyalists."

Chains shifted to Alex's left, and she looked over at Crowley, crouched in the corner. He was still as a stone, but Alex could feel his fear, see the faint tremors in his hands. "Good." Lucifer leaned back and folded one leg over the other, and Alex shifted to the side to avoid getting a shoe to the face. "Kill them all."

The demon hurried away, and Lucifer pushed himself to his feet. Alex scrambled up after him, arching her back with a grunt of discomfort, and then Lucifer's hand was there, the coolness of his grace soothing her sore muscles. "Finally." She glanced down at Crowley with a frown. "What are we going to do about him?"

Lucifer shrugged, his wings rising and falling. "You tell me. You're the one who didn't want to kill him." Alex hesitated, and an arm snaked around her waist, drawing her into his chest. "He's safe here for now," he promised. "Isn't that right, Crowley?" No response came from the demon, and Lucifer grinned. "Come on."

He drew Alex in close as he thrust his wings downwards, and then they were flying, spiraling through the halls at a breakneck speed. Alex drew her own wings in close, fighting the temptation to spread them out and fly alongside him; the extra resistance would only slow them down.

The hallway gave way to open air, thick with heat, and Alex watched the hellish landscape blur past. Something loomed through the darkness, and Lucifer's wings curled around her as they plummeted to the ground. The sandy surface glowed red with heat, and Alex clasped her fingers around Lucifer's cold hand. To her right lay a river, the water a molten fire that flowed into a fiery lake. To her right stood a massive blackened structure. "Pandemonium." The name fell from Alex's lips before she could stop herself, and she couldn't help the awe that filled her grace.

"You remember." Another push of Lucifer's wings took them to the courtyard, and Alex reached out to feel the black stone column. "I promised you I'd take you here," he reminded, and Alex's wings flattened as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "And here we are." The bridge of his nose momentarily brushed against the back of her neck before he stepped away.

Alex dug her nail into one of the golden flecks in the column, frowning to find it embedded in the rock. "It's the same color as my wings," she joked, her broken feathers lifting to show off their black and gold.

She felt Lucifer's fingers grab hold, and she turned to watch him examine a long primary feather, the tip reduced to nothing by the central vane. A few blue barbs jutted out here and there, a reminder of Castiel's bond, and Lucifer's gaze darkened. Alex jerked her wing, yanking out of his hold, and Lucifer's eyes drifted up onto her. "Do you remember this place?" He pushed past her, dragging his fingers across the stone column, and Alex followed him towards the archway that led into the building. "This is where you told me that you would never choose me over Castiel."

"I … I remember that." Alex paused to look around, suppressing a shudder as she tried to recall that dream. "You weren't happy." She probed at the bond in her grace, trying to stir the seraph, but she only succeeded in having him pull back further. "What did you tell him?" she asked. "Cas wouldn't say yes just for the hell of it."

To her surprise, Lucifer laughed, and Alex hurried after him as he moved down the dark hallway. "You should have seen him. He practically _begged_ me to use him as a vessel. He knew that I could break your deal with Crowley, and that was more important to him than anything else."

"I told him —"

"I know what you told him." Lucifer tapped his temple. "I've been in your head, and now I'm in his. I know everything between you two, and let me tell you." He laughed, a harsh, quick scoff, and Alex pursed her lips. "I thought _I_ had problems."

"You do have problems." Alex's sharpness faltered as they stepped into a large, vaulted room. The dome above their head was an opaque glass that glittered and glowed with hell's orange light. In the center of the room was a raised stone platform, as circular as the room, and upon it sat a throne.

It was just as Alex remembered it. The ornate chair was black — not a murky black, but a black that shone and gleamed. The ears of the throne stretched upwards like horns, twisting as they ascended, and it took the angel a moment to find her voice again. "Last time I saw you, you broke my wing!"

"It healed." Lucifer's anger melted into lax amusement, and Alex scowled. "Oh, come on." He dropped down onto the throne, kicking up his feet over the arm as he reclined. "Last time I was topside, let's see." He held up a hand to count on his fingers. "I had a failing vessel, I had to fight my own brother — which I didn't want to do, mind you — and on top of it all, I had some snarky teen-with-wings wrapped up like a gift basket. What can I say? I'm not me when I'm stressed."

"You beat the shit out of me!"

"You deserved it." Lucifer straightened up and crooked a finger, beckoning her forward, and Alex rolled her eyes. "Come on, Alex," he whined. "The past is the past. I like to think I've redeemed myself by now." His grace snuck out to pull her to him. "And I think you got your revenge when you sent me back to the Cage."

He rose to his feet to catch her as she slid to a stop in front of him. "Yeah, well, you deserved that, too," she muttered, and she tried to step back, but the devil caught her wrists to keep her close. His grip was firm, erring on the sight of too tight, and Alex's wings tremored when she saw the anger that sat hidden in his eyes. "What? You're still pissed about that? What happened to 'the past is the past'?"

The air spun, a whirl of feathers faster than even Alex could comprehend, and when they landed, the heat of hell was gone. They were standing on the grass beside a blue lake, where a crisp breeze floated through the air, stirring her feathers. Kids shrieked in joy from a playground behind them, but Alex couldn't tear her eyes away from the archangel that stood before her. "You know why." He stepped away, and Alex plucked again at Castiel's grace, trying to wake the seraph up. "Would you stop that?" Lucifer spun around, his wings snapping out to fill the air. "Cas is gone, okay? You want to know where he is?" He jabbed a finger against his temple. "He's curled up in here watching Saturday morning cartoons because he doesn't want anything to do with you anymore. All you did was push him around, and now he's fed up and he's _done_. So guess what? I'm tired of playing second fiddle to some guy who's never around."

The admission had Alex shrinking back. "He … he thinks I what?"

"Don't worry." The corners of Lucifer's lips turned up into a smirk, and his voice softened. "Castiel thought the best way to please you was to bend over backwards. We both know that's not true." His wings curled forward, and Alex stiffened as they brushed across her arms. "I've been in your head, _enay_. Don't try and lie."

"I never said you were wrong." Alex's shoulders dropped, and she turned her eyes out to the lake to watch a family of ducks swim past.

She felt Lucifer's gaze follow hers, and his grace hummed against her. "You know, for all my Father's shortcomings, some parts of his creation never ceases to amaze me." He crossed over to a wooden bench and sat down, his wings spread out to take in the afternoon sun, and after a second's pause, Alex sat down beside him. "Even just the different types of warmth. Sure, hell is hot, but this … "

He shifted a wing so Alex could sit closer, and he threw one arm up over the back of the bench as he reclined. His fingertips found the back of her neck, a cold, gentle touch, and Alex leaned back into it as she closed her eyes.

They opened when she felt Lucifer stiffen, and the archangel's grace brushed across hers. "Keep your eyes down," he murmured, "and come with me." He rose to his feet, and Alex followed suit, her head whipping around in confusion, but Lucifer flicked her with a wing. "Don't look," he warned. "I don't want to scare him."

"Scare who?" Alex hurried to walk at his side, her wings drawn in closer as they started towards a trail that led into the woods. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine." Lucifer's wing curled around her shoulder, a calm, silent promise. "Of all the parks in the world," he added, lifting his voice, "and I pick the one with an angel in it." He paused beside a large oak tree, and Alex finally turned around as his wing fell away.

A grey-winged angel stood there, his feet shifting in a defensive stance, and Alex's fists clenched at the sight of the angel blade in his hands. "I saw you." His eyes flickered between Alex and Lucifer as he spoke. "I couldn't believe my eyes."

The archangel grinned. "Well, believe them," he teased with a wink, and his wings folded neutrally up against his back as he turned to look at the trees around him. "It's beautiful out here, isn't it?" he asked, and Alex watched as the angel's broken wings rose, an attempt at a threat. The gesture went unnoticed by Lucifer. "It's funny, the things you think you're not gonna miss at all, you end up missing the very, very most."

The tip of his crimson wing dragged up Alex's back as he spoke, and the angel scowled. "Enjoy it while you can," he spat as he advanced, and Alex's hand went back to draw her weapon.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Lucifer's hands went up in mock surrender, and the angel paused, his eyes flickering between Lucifer and the weapon in Alex's hand. "I come in peace, brother. No need for anyone to get hurt."

"I'm not your brother, Lucifer." The angel's feathers ruffled as he spoke, and his brown eyes flashed as Alex scoffed.

"Well, I'm not looking for a fight. In fact, I am your only hope at beating the Darkness." Lucifer circled around the angel, leaving Alex to hold her ground by the large tree, and the angel shifted to try and keep both of them in his sight. "I heard, uh …" Lucifer leaned forward, his voice dropping into a whisper, "heard you kids had your big shot at the title, and you missed it." He winced in mock sympathy, and he reached out to place a comforting hand on the angel's shoulder. "You don't need to be afraid, brother," he promised. "I am out of that awful, awful cage. And I am here to save you all." He grinned as he stepped away, and Alex lifted her chin as Lucifer circled back around to stand in front of her, his blue eyes glittering as he looked down at her. "Lucifer ex machina."

"It cannot be destroyed." Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw the angel lunge towards Lucifer's turned back, weapon raised. "But you can —"

Lucifer snapped his fingers, and his grace crackled through the air. One second the angel was there, and then he wasn't, his vessel exploding into millions of bloody droplets that flew in every direction. Alex flinched away, but Lucifer's wings lifted up, shielding her from the bloody mist. "Ugh." The devil's tongue snaked out. "You see, that's the problem with those rank-and-file angels. No vision."

He reached out to drag a finger down Alex's cheek, and it pulled away red with blood. "Ew." Alex scrubbed at her cheek with the palm of her hand, and she repeated herself in disgust as Lucifer touched his bloodstained finger to his lips. "Ew! Don't eat that!"

The archangel swirled his tongue across the pad of his index finger, drawing out a low hum that ended in a chuckle. Blood spatter stained his coat and face, and his grace twisted outwards to draw it back into the air. Alex's eyes slid down towards the bloody ground, all that remained of the stranger, and Lucifer chucked her under the chin. "Don't look at it."

"I've seen dead things before, Luce. I'm not twelve." Alex shook out her wings in displeasure, but she reluctantly turned back to him. "Was that … was that really necessary?"

"He would have returned to heaven and told everyone." Lucifer led the way further down the trail with a dismissive flick of his wing, and Alex followed. "We've got bigger things to worry about."

"Like the Darkness." Alex moved in front of him, a hand outstretched to stop him in his tracks. "You said you can beat her, right? Then let's do that." She watched as the devil hesitated, his jaw ticked, and she shoved her hands into her pockets. "Don't lie to me."

" _Li pas agi_ ," Lucifer stepped forward, his voice low in a purr. _My little one_. "You know that I'll never lie to you." He took her face in her hands, her chin tilted up. "I'm going to do everything that I can to stop her. Now," he added, "I can't exactly take her on _mano a mano_ , but I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

He stepped away and started down the trail, and Alex shook her wings out in indignation before she hurried after him. "Wait! You told Sam that you could stop her!"

"Sam knew full well that it took God with a capital 'G,' " Lucifer retorted. "But He needed my help, too. And ever since Dad went down to the post office and never came back … I'm the best shot that _any_ of you have."

His voice rose in anger, and Alex reached out to take his hand, threading her fingers through his as they walked. "I know you are. It's … it's a good thing that you're here." She could feel Lucifer's pleasure thrumming through his grace at her words, and she leaned her head to the side to momentarily rest it against his shoulder. "What's your plan?"

"I want to find a way into this bunker of yours." The woods opened up in front of them to the lake, and Lucifer paused at the shores as a flock of geese hurried away, honking out their displeasure. "What are the Winchesters doing today?"

"Don't know." Alex dug her phone out of her pocket with her free hand. "I can call Sam, if you want." Lucifer didn't respond, and with a shrug, Alex dialed Sam's number. She backed up a few paces to distance herself from the archangel, but he didn't appear to notice, too entranced with the wildlife around him. "Sam?"

"Hey, Pip. What's up?" Sam's voice crackled through the phone, and Alex turned away from Lucifer to gain some semblance of privacy. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's good. I'm just calling to check in. How are you and Dean?"

"Great. We're actually working a local case. There's been a couple deaths over at Oak Park Retirement Home" Alex scoffed, and she heard Sam chuckle defensively. "I know, but they're _weird_ deaths. Uh, this guy was shouting about how something was in his head just before he bashed his skull into the wall. Where are you and Cas at?"

"We're not too far out," Alex lied. "We're just taking some 'us' time to figure things out, you know?" Her wings flattened as Lucifer pressed up against her back, his arms wrapping around her waist. "I think Cas wants to head back to the bunker at some point, though. He's got some ideas about the Darkness."

She tipped her head to the side as Lucifer's breath brushed across her skin, cold against the warm air, and she almost missed Sam's response. "Yeah, uh, let yourself in. I'll see you when you get back."

"Sounds good." Alex hung up, turning her head slightly to look at the archangel. "They're out of the bunker. We could go there now." She stepped away and shook her tattered wings with a scowl. "I'd lead the way, but …"

"I know where I'm going." Lucifer grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her close as he thrust his wings downwards, and the earth spiraled away from her feet. The wind whipped through her hair, and Alex reached up to brush it back as they passed through the bunker walls and landed in the library. The moment her feet touched the wooden floors, Alex stepped away, drawing her hair up into a ponytail as her grace stretched out to search the surrounding rooms. "They're not here," she confirmed, and she turned around to watch Lucifer. The archangel's eyes drifted across the room, taking in the stone arches above their heads. "Well?"

"It's not what I was expecting." Lucifer drew in his wings as he crossed over to the nearest bookshelf. "When Castiel said underground, I was expecting … dirt. Dark."

"What?" Alex scoffed. "I thought you had gone through all of Cas' memories."

"I sifted through the important ones." Lucifer tilted a book away from the shelf by tugging on the spine, and his face twisted into a frown. "Going through all of his thoughts, now, that would take longer than this."

"Only if you start here." Alex waved him closer with a flick of her tattered wing. "Sam and Dean have already picked this room clean. The archives downstairs are our best bets." She started off down the hall, pausing only until she heard the heavy footsteps that promised Lucifer was following.

She hurried down the stairs and through the winding halls, finally stopping in front of a large wooden door marked 6a. "This one." She pushed her way inside, her grace flicking on the lights above her head. "I don't think the Winchesters have spent much time in here yet. We've gone through it all once, tops." She stepped aside to let Lucifer through as she added, "That cabinet thing right there has all of the reference cards. Maybe you can make something out of them."

She pulled herself up onto one of the wooden tables as the archangel turned towards where she had just pointed, and she watched him flip the drawer's contents. He slammed it shut a minute later, and his crimson wings lifted his eyes raked across her. "Well? Are you going to help?" He shrugged out of his trenchcoat and tossed it over the back of the nearest chair before he did the same with the blue suit coat. "Or are you just going to sit there and look pretty?"

"I like that option," Alex teased, and she leaned back as Lucifer walked past her. "What do you want me to do?" No answer came, and she turned her head to watch the archangel pick a box off of the top shelf, balancing it in one hand like it weighed nothing. He dropped it down onto the table at her side, and Alex grunted as a heavy book landed in her lap. "Alright, I get it," she muttered. "Read."

...

 **S** he wasn't sure how long she sat on the table, flipping through the books that the devil had given her. The old leather spine dug into her leg, and she scowled as she ran her finger down the page. "This is boring," she finally announced, slamming the cover shut as she finished. "There's nothing here." She shoved the book off of the table, and it hit the ground with a heavy _thud_.

"Nothing yet." Lucifer was on the other side of the room, his finger tapping against his bottom lip as he thought. His tie had been loosened, the white collar of his shirt set ajar, and the sleeves had been haphazardly shoved up towards his elbows. His eyes moved across the boxes that lined the shelves but, upon feeling Alex's gaze, he turned. "What?" he prompted with a flick of his wing, and Alex drew her own broken feathers in tightly against her back.

"I think you're the only angel out there that can still fly." Alex swallowed back the longing that threatened to creep into her voice. "Looks like the Cage actually did you some good."

A thin smile crept across Lucifer's face, and he strolled over to her side. "Perhaps," he mused. "It's ironic, don't you think? That I'm the most angel-like out of all of the angels." He fingered Alex's wings, the pad of his fingertips lightly tracing the exposed yellowed bone before it brushed across a snapped feather. "Everyone scorned me for it, but how the mighty have fallen, hmm?"

"Except it wasn't their fault." Alex's wing twitched at the contact, and she drew it away. "They fell because Metatron is an asshole." She twisted so she could feel Lucifer's wings, rubbing the smooth, cold feathers between her fingers as she thought. "I miss having wings like this," she finally murmured. "I hate how they look now."

"They're pretty bad," Lucifer agreed, and he circled around the table to stand in front of her. "Of course, that's not necessarily their permanent state." His hands planted on the table on either side of her hips as he spoke, and a _bang_ echoed through the room as one of the chairs tipped over as Alex leaned back. She glanced backwards towards the source of the sound, and Lucifer's crimson wings encircled the table. "Your wings can be restored … if you become my mate."

The light above their head disappeared, blocked out by Lucifer's wings until only a red glow remained, and Alex's breath caught in her throat at the archangel's proximity. "Why … why don't you just fix me now?" she got out, a breathless challenge, and Lucifer chuckled.

"That's not how it works, little one," he chided. "If you want to fix your wings, you're going to need a complete grace. One that's not … fractured."

A noise came from within the bunker — a slamming door, footsteps — and Alex lifted her head to see past Lucifer, but a hand on her jaw pulled her right back into him. And then he kissed her. His lips pressed up against hers, and Alex's wings trembled in surprise. They felt familiar, dry and chapped, but they moved sharper, pressed harder than they ever had before. His nails dug into her chin to keep her close, a blunt pain that was soothed by the coolness of his fingers.

"Hey!" A gun cocked, and Alex's eyes snapped open at the sound of Dean's shout. She felt Lucifer smile against her lips as he pulled away, and Alex peered past him to see the Winchester standing in the doorway, dressed in a suit and tie. "Cas? Alex? What the hell are you guys doing here?" He lowered his gun as he met Alex's eyes, and the angel felt her cheeks flush.

The smile on Lucifer's face fell away, and he rolled his eyes as he deepened his voice. "Hello, Dean."

"Right, yeah." Dean tucked his gun back into his dress pants with a scowl. "We don't hear from you guys for days, and then you just show up, you start wrecking the joint. I thought you said you were still taking 'me' time."

Lucifer's hand had dropped down to her thigh, and he squeezed sharply as he heaved a silent sigh. "I'm sorry," he finally ground out, and Alex quietly echoed him. He turned around, his crimson wings drawing in to rest neutrally against his back.

"Sure." Dean rolled his eyes, and Alex shifted to the side to put some distance between her and Lucifer. "What — what are you guys doing here? Apart from …" He gestured vaguely towards them, and Alex clenched her jaw to try and keep back the heat from her face.

"Well, I'm … looking for a spell," Lucifer began, turning his attention back to the books and papers that lay scattered around the table upon which Alex sat. "Something to draw Amara out, but there's … there's nothing." His fingers angrily gripped at a stack of loose sheets of paper, the hint of frustration creeping into his tone. "I had her in my sights. She was hurt. I should have ended it."

"Wait. What?" Dean stepped further into the room, and Alex moved to slide off of the table, but a flick of Lucifer's blood-red wings had her staying right where she was. "How?"

"Well, I don't know." Lucifer's nails dug into the tabletop before he turned around. "But there has to be something. And how many more chances are we gonna get?" He leaned up against the table beside her, his hand coming up to rest casually on Alex's knee.

"Yeah, I know," Dean agreed discouragingly. "Saying you're gonna kill her is one thing, but … actually doing it is something totally different." He moved further into the archive room, but Lucifer reached out to stop him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice deepening, and Dean hesitated.

He glanced over at Alex before his eyes returned back onto the archangel. "I had two shots at Amara," he finally admitted. "I struck out both times." Lucifer's eyebrows knit together in confusion, and Dean sighed. "I — I don't even know where to start."

"Dean …" Lucifer pushed himself to his feet and stepped forward to stand in front of the Winchester. "Tell me everything."

"There's not much to tell." Dean shrugged, and he moved past Lucifer to pace along the length of the room. "First time, I just couldn't … I couldn't bring myself to do anything. I couldn't even move, let alone shank her." He pulled a box down from the third shelf and returned to the table across from Alex with a shake of her head. "Second time wasn't much better. But at least … at least I tried to kill her."

"Well, the two of you are connected somehow by the Mark," Lucifer agreed, and Alex watched as Dean opened up the box and pulled out a golden knife that was wrapped in a soft white cloth.

"Yeah, no, it's, uh ..it's more than that," Dean admitted, not lifting his eyes from the weapon in his hands, and Alex felt Lucifer's grace twist in interest as he nudged at the book Alex had discarded.

"Attraction?" he guessed half-heartedly, bending over to pick it up, but when Dean didn't respond, he straightened with a frown. The Winchester's gaze flitted away as his jaw tightened, and Lucifer sighed, his head tipping in an imitation of Castiel's disappointment. "Oh, Dean." He crossed over to stand in front of Dean, and the Winchester scowled.

"I know. I know, okay? Whatever it is …" He dropped his eyes back onto the box and unwrapped a second gold blade. "A — an attraction, connection …" He lifted his head to look Lucifer in the eyes. "I got to tell you, man, it scares me. I don't know that I can stop it. I don't know that I can resist it."

Lucifer put a hand on Dean's shoulder, a silent sign of comfort. "Hey, it scares me, too," he promised, and Alex reached out with her grace, unsure whether the archangel was speaking the truth. "But we will find out what this is, I promise." His hand fell away, and he added, "In the end, this may help draw her out. This could be a good thing."

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but his cellphone rang, and he looked down at it with a thin frown. "It's Sam," he announced, and he gathered up the two blades as he walked towards the door.

Alex watched him exit the room, and the moment he was out of sight, Lucifer was back in front of her, his facade dropping. "What?" he teased at the sight of her frown. "I thought I did well." He pushed himself closer, nudging at her knees, and Alex spread them so he could slot between her legs.

"You're being so clingy all of a sudden," she teased, tugging on his tie, and she hummed when Lucifer pressed his forehead up against hers with a throaty laugh.

"Just keeping up pretenses," he murmured, barely loud enough for her to hear. "I'm supposed to be your mate." His lips brushed against the shell of her ear, and Alex shifted at the cold breath of air. "Besides," he added, "I like to watch you squirm."

Alex planted her hands upon his chest to push him away, and Lucifer leaned back with a toothy grin. "Well, you might want to tone it down a bit, Casanova. Castiel and I … haven't been all that close as of late."

"I know." Lucifer's cold finger trace down the line of her jaw, coming to rest on the small white scar beneath her chin. "But none of that matters anymore because Castiel is gone." He stepped away, his wings drawing in close, and Alex's eyes, half-lidded, snapped open at the sudden space put between them. "You should go with Dean," he decided. "I'd hate for the boys to get suspicious so quickly. I'll stay here and keep looking."

His grace wrapped around her, nudging her off of the table, and Alex reluctantly brushed past him and started off in search of Dean. She felt Lucifer following, always staying two steps behind. "Dean?" Alex stretched her grace out in search of the Winchester.

She found him standing in a room down the hall, a large book on the table in front of him and his phone in his hands. "I'm on my way," he told his brother, and Alex leaned up against the doorframe as he hung up and turned around. "I gotta get back to Sam," he announced, his eyes flickering between Alex and Lucifer. "Listen … about what we talked about, let's just keep that between us … 'til we know more, okay?"

Lucifer's voice dropped low. "Dean, that's not —"

"Cas, just … trust me."

Lucifer forced a sigh, and his wings brushed up against Alex's back. "Alright," he relented. "But the next time you face Amara, you won't be alone." He stepped aside to let Dean through the doorway, and Alex did the same. She felt a hand on the small of her back, nudging her forward, and she hesitated only a second before she moved after Dean.

"Dean, wait up!" She hurried down the hall after him. "You guys are working a case?"

"Yeah." Dean touched his suit pocket where the handles of the golden blade protruded from. "Banshee." He glanced behind her, but Lucifer was no longer in sight. "Why? You want to come?"

"If that's okay with you." Alex's hand reached back to feel for her weapon, which sat firmly against her back, held there by her grace. "I'm always up for a good old-fashioned hunt. Sam said something about some old person bashing their skull in?"

"Yup. Harold Miller, sixty-five years old. He was found with his head busted in a locked room, no signs of a break in. He had some beef with another resident who had died, so we were thinking vengeful spirit, but then the manager — Arthur — died. Same MO." He led the way up the stairs, and Alex followed, using her wings to balance as she jumped up after the Winchester. "One of the women there saw it happen. She said he was screaming about something being in his head before he started banging his head against the window. He broke right through and fell three stories."

"Huh." Alex flicked a wingtip, only half-listening to the exposition. "How'd you figure out its a banshee?"

"She looked out the window and saw a blue woman hovering over Arthur. Coroner said part of his frontal lobe was missing, which tracks with banshees." Dean led the way towards the garage and the Impala. "Malevolent ones, at least. They use their piercing scream to drive their prey crazy. Forces the vics to crack open their own eggs, and the banshees feed on the yolk."

"And the only people who can hear it are the victims," Alex finished, and Dean nodded. "Okay, fun. You know, the first case I worked was a banshee, I think." She pulled open the passenger side door before she paused. "No, I take that back, I think that was a Red Cap."

She got into the car, and Dean followed after a second. "Red Cap?" he repeated. "I don't think I remember hearing about that one."

Alex scoffed. "It was my first time out on a hunt," she insisted. "I know I've told you guys about it. It was also, coincidently, the first time Bobby yelled at me."

"Oh yeah, that sounds familiar." Dean chuckled, and the car hummed as the engine roared to life. "Well, the old folk's home isn't too far away. We'll be there in an hour, so settle in." He tossed the golden blades onto the seat between them, and Alex reached out to study the weapons as they drove out of the bunker and towards the road.

...

 **T** he brick exterior of the Oak Park Retirement Home loomed over the short-cut grass and trimmed bushes, and Alex ran her eyes across the line of glass windows as she followed Dean up the walk. One of the golden blades sat in her jacket, given to her for safe-keeping by Dean, and she reached down to feel the outline against her side. "So let me get this straight," she began as they stepped through the front door. "The plan's to use one of the residents as bait? That seems a little below us, don't you think?"

"Yeah, well, it's the best option that we have." Dean led the way up the stairs with a small shake of his head. "Unless you know of another way to draw a banshee out — what?" He paused to look back at Alex, who had stopped on the landing of the first floor. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Alex forced her wings to lie flat even as her grace rose. People moved past her, slow staggering. Pale and lifeless. "There's been a lot of people who died here, hasn't there?" She sidestepped a ghost of an elderly man who ambled past without a glance in her direction. "Because there's ghosts _everywhere_."

"This place is full of people who are half dead already," Dean muttered, and Alex jumped up the last few stairs to join him on the second floor. "I'm surprised we don't get called to places like this more often." He waved her up one more floor and down the hall, and Alex let her grace stretch out ahead of them to check the rooms.

She could feel Sam up ahead, his soul warm and familiar, and she reined it back in as Dean opened up a wooden door. "Hey," he greeted, stepping inside, and Alex followed, echoing him as she flicked her wing.

Sam sat in a chair in the middle of a room, his head bowed in conversation with a dark-haired woman; both looked up as they entered. The woman rose to her feet, and Sam did the same, motioning over to the two of them. "Eileen, this is my brother, Dean Winchester. And that's Alex."

"No last name," Alex added, stepping forward to shake the woman's hand. "It's good to meet you."

"You too." Eileen spoke slowly, stuttering and slurring over her words, and Alex couldn't help how her grace curiously snuck out to probe at the stranger as she turned to Dean. "So you're a … a legacy, too."

Dean shrugged out his agreement, and Alex tipped her head. "You're deaf," she stated. When Eileen didn't respond, her eyes still on Dean, the angel turned to Sam. "She's deaf," she repeated. "Who is she?"

"She's a hunter." Sam crossed over to stand next to Eileen, and the woman finally turned her head to watch them. "We're hunting the banshee that killed her parents when she was a baby."

"Its scream is … is what made me this w-way," she explained. "This … this is why I'm … here."

"Huh. Uh, right, well." Dean dug the golden blades out of his pocket and handed one to Sam. "Here's one for you. And I'm guessing you already have one," he added to Eileen, who nodded. "Great." He held out his hand, and Alex pulled the blade from her pocket, twisting it so the handle pressed against his open palm. "Which means we got an extra one for Mildred."

"Who?" Alex's word was lost under the creaking of the door that swung open, and the angel's wings fluttered as an elderly woman stepped through, a grin on her face at the sight of Dean. "Agent! Oh! I'm so glad you're back." Two steps took her into the room to Dean's side, and she wrapped her hands around his arm with a wide smile.

"Yeah." Dean's eyes flickered over to Sam as he cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Alex sniggered.

"I feel safer already," Mildred continued, and she tugged Dean further into the small apartment, towards a couch that faced the windows on the other side of the room. "Um … come here. I want to show you something."

Alex turned back towards Eileen, almost missing the pained look Dean shot back in their direction as he was pulled down onto the couch. "So, you've been deaf since you were born?" she asked, and Eileen nodded. "Huh. That's impressive that you can speak so well — no offense."

A smile graced the woman's lips, and she looked up at Sam with a small laugh. "No offense," she repeated. "A hunter … L-Lillian O'Grady, s-she … taught me everything. How to … to hunt, to comm … communicate. She trained me."

"Hey, you know, Alex knows a bit of sign language, too," Sam quickly put in, and Alex's head tipped back in a loud laugh.

"I know the word for 'idiot,' " she joked, shrugging off the amiable hand that Sam put on her shoulder. "And that's only because I need to tell Dean how stupid he is even when we're hunting." She jerked a thumb back towards the eldest Winchester, who was still seated on the couch, perched awkwardly beside the elderly woman. "No, I … I think I can read it better than I can sign it." Her grace flicked as she spoke, hoping that her words were true and, before her claim could be put to the test, she added, "So do you hunt alone now? What happened to Lillian?"

"She died when I was s-sixteen. Cancer." Sadness clouded Eileen's face momentarily, darkening her brown eyes. "I prefer working alone. Trust issues."

"Oh, trust me, I understand." Alex's grin faltered as she glanced back towards Dean and Mildred, and her eyes flickered towards the wall just beyond them, where a triquetra had been drawn in red paint, each wing decorated with a sigil that pointed towards the whorl in the middle. A second, identical sigil was painted directly across from it, and Alex frowned and shook out her tattered wings. "I'm going to take a walk up and down the hall," she decided with a look up towards Sam. "Maybe I can feel something before it hits." She waited for the hunter to nod before she slipped past him and slid through the open door, tugging it closed behind her and locking it with a flick of her grace.

A ghost passed through the wall in front of her, stifling a yawn as it ambled down the hallway, and Alex's lips turned up in a small scowl. Dead people everywhere. Great. She moved down the hall, her grace lazily flicking through the rooms as she passed. Dead people, living people. More dead people.

She was near the end of the hall when a door opened, and a cold hand yanked in inwards. Alex's wings flared out in alarm as her back was thrown up against the now-closed door; she grunted at the impact, but her head was saved from collision by something cold and soft — a hand that had gone out between her head and the hard door. Blue eyes sparkled, almost too close for comfort, and Alex's rush of adrenaline had her pushing angrily against a solid chest. "What the hell?" she hissed, and she pushed harder against the archangel when he didn't budge. "What are you doing here?"

Lucifer clicked his tongue, and the hand in her hair pulled away. "I got bored," he joked, and Alex scowled. "And," he added, a finger pressed against her lips to keep her silent, "I need to return to hell. I can't stay away too long, not when I'm just starting to, you know, establish myself." His face darkened as he spoke, and Alex reached up to smooth down a strand of dark hair that stuck up out of place. "And I shouldn't leave Crowley alone."

He spat out the demon's name, and Alex's grace twisted instinctively inside of her. "Needham Asylum," she blurted out. "In Connecticut. Crowley's got some sort of a hell-base there. That — that way you won't have to stay in hell and I won't have to keep going to gates to find you."

Lucifer hummed, tapping his finger against her lip thoughtfully, and Alex's grace curled tightly around his, wanting to pull him closer. "If you want to find me," he finally murmured, "all you have to do is say my name." His finger fell away as he leaned down, and his lips brushed up against the corner of hers, a whisper of a touch. "I'll answer." Alex's eyes fell closed as her lips parted, straining towards him, but the archangel remained just out of reach.

A scream ripped through the air, and Alex's eyes snapped open just in time to see the archangel disappear. "Fuck!" Alex tore out of the room, her grace snapping as she rushed down the hall towards the source of the shout. The air had grown cold, and the lights above her head flickered and died. "Sam?"

The door was still locked; Alex threw her weight against it as her grace undid the pin, and it swung open with a earth-shattering _bang_. Dean was crouched on the floor, his hands over his ears. Blood dripped from the corner of his eyes, his body trembling under the strain. Sam knelt at his side, holding him up as he looked wildly around. "Alex!" He shouted her name, but Alex barely heard; the air in front of him shimmered with the form of a humanoid creature. Long black hair flowed from the back of her head, twisting through the air like she was submersed in the sea, and her long, flowing red dress was stained with blood.

The banshee screamed, a shrill, ear-piercing screech, and her eyes and open mouth glowed like fire. "Banshee's here." Alex tore her gaze away, pointing towards the monster as she spoke, and her wings arched up in concern as Dean collapsed with a shout of pain. "Dean?"

"It's targeting him." Sam's head whipped around, searching for the monster. "Where is it?"

"It —" Alex jerked back as Eileen flew past her, and she whirled around as the hunter crashed into the bookcase on the other side of the room. Someone shouted her name — Alex didn't know who — and the angel whipped around just in time to see a hand swinging in her direction.

She dropped to the ground and rolled away, pushing herself back up to her knees in front of Dean. Sam was already on his feet, golden blade out as he swung his head back and forth, and Alex reached down to put her hand on Dean's head, thrumming her grace against his skull as she picked and probed in search of the banshee's hold.

Something heavy collided into her back, and Alex fell to the ground, shouting out her surprise as Sam landed on top of her. "Fuck." The breathless curse left her lips as the air was crushed from her lungs, and Alex heaved the dazed hunter off of her with a grunt.

"Dean, stop!" Mildred's shout had Alex whipping around in search of the Winchester. He was already across the room, banging his head up against the doorframe as the siren cornered him, her mouth open in an ear-splitting scream.

"Mildred!" Eileen pointed towards the wall behind Alex, her fingers flashing as she signed out the word _symbol_ ; Alex threw herself forward before the older woman could decipher the meaning. She withdrew her grace from her weapon and drew the blade across her palm, grimacing at the pain. She slammed her hand against the center of the sigil, and the siren screamed — a different scream. This one was full of surprise and pain as the monster was flung away from Dean, pinned up against the second symbol on the other side of the room. The banshee writhed, glowing yellow cracks striping across her blackened skin. Eileen threw herself forward, and her golden blade caught in the dim light before it plunged deep into the banshee's stomach.

The explosion wasn't like anything Alex had felt before. The creature shrieked as it was enveloped in a golden glow, and then Eileen was on the ground, knocked down by the resounding _boom_ that shook the air. The banshee vanished in a flash of light, and the room fell back into darkness.

The sigil on the wall glowed an ashen red — so did the one on Alex's hand. The angel pulled back with a hiss to find it smouldering against her flesh, and her grace twisted angrily at the red burns on her palm, the definition of the sigil's lines sharp against her pale skin. Alex's head tipped as she stared down at it, her lips pursed quizzically, but the shout of Dean's name had her tearing her eyes away.

The Winchester was crouched on the floor, his bloody head in his hands. "Are you okay?" Mildred hurried over to his side, her worried hands unsure where to rest as she moved around him. Sam was helping Eileen to her feet; the deaf hunter stood unsteadily, her eyes glued to the glowing sigil.

Alex picked her way over to them, careful not to favor her raw hand. "It's never d-done that before," Eileen was telling Sam, her voice low with confusion, and Alex cleared her throat as she came to stop at their side.

She waited until Eileen's eyes turned onto her before she spoke. "I think we can pretty clearly say that banshee sigils and angel blood do _not_ mix." She grimaced as she spoke, cradling her hand as she showed off the damage. "I"m guessing she wasn't supposed to explode like that, either."

Eileen looked up at Sam, and her hands came up to quickly tap her shoulders before they turned outwards to flick up and down. Angel? Even without her grace, Alex could have understood the question in a heartbeat.

"Yeah, it's uh … it's complicated." Sam put a gentle hand on Eileen's shoulder, and his eyes flickered past her to rest on Dean. "Hey, can you check on him?" he asked of Alex. "He's bleeding pretty bad."

"Yeah, I'll see what I can do." Alex circled around the couch to make her way towards Dean, who had moved to lean up against the wall. She could feel Lucifer's grace within her, a cold, soothing pressure against her hand, and the angel cast a rushed look around the room; by the way it was thrumming up against her, she was half-expecting the archangel to show up in the flesh. However, the room was void of him, and with a sigh, she dropped down to kneel in front of Dean. "Hey," she whispered, keeping her voice low, but the Winchester still flinched at her voice, his hands covering his sore ears. "Let me see." She nudged his hands out of the way and replaced them with hers, letting her grace flow in through her fingertips. She could feel the damage inside, and she slowly stitched it back together. One hand moved up to his head, fingers sliding through the short brown strands, slick with blood.

Her eyes snapped open as Lucifer's grace tried to sneak in after hers, and she dragged it away with a sharply-inhaled breath. "There." She leaned back, withdrawing her grace and wiping the blood from Dean's face. "Better?"

"Yeah." Dean grunted as he tried to push himself to his feet, and Alex reached out to balance him. "Thanks." He moved off after his brother, each step steadier than the last, and Mildred followed, staying close to his side. Alex stayed where she was crouched, her face set into a grimace as she stared down at her hand. Lucifer's grace moved against it, soothing the deep burns and mending the red, raw skin. _You okay?_

Alex's head jerked up as his voice echoed in her mind, and she cast a quick look around before her wings twitched in relief to find herself alone. Despite the casualness of his words, something darker sat beneath Lucifer's tone — anger? Worry? The angel couldn't tell. _I'm fine_ , she promised. _Just a small scrape_. With a sigh, she shoved his grace back down alongside Castiel's, still curled far out of reach, and she rose to her feet to join the Winchesters on the other side of the room.

...

 **T** he bunker hummed around her, and Alex's wings twitched as she cracked open her beer, tossing the bottle cap off towards the far end of the table. She wrapped her hand around the cold bottle, stifling a relieved sigh at the soothing chill — the red flesh had faded, but the memory of the pain remained. She took a sip of the liquid with a bitter scowl as she stared at Sam, who sat at the table across from her. His attention was fully on his laptop, and Alex sighed again, louder this time, as she plucked half-heartedly at her grace. Lucifer's sat quietly within her, unresponsive to her prodding. "So." Dean appeared at the entrance to the library, and Alex's eyes flickered up to him. "Cas is gone, huh?"

Sam grabbed a can of beer off of the table and tossed it behind him, his eyes never leaving his screen, and Dean caught it in both hands. A faint smile pulled at his lips, proud at the move, and he cracked open the drink as he dropped down in a chair next to Sam. "Yeah, he's gone," Alex agreed. Heat prickled at her face, and she hid behind the bottle as she took another sip.

"What was he doing here, anyways?" Sam asked, finally looking up, and Alex shrugged.

Dean answered before she could. "He was looking for lore on the Darkness," he explained with a shake of his head. "Something … something was a little off about him, too."

Sam scoffed. "Something always seems a little bit off about Cas," he reminded, and hazel eyes flickered over to Alex; the angel just shrugged again, not offended by the comment. She drummed her nails on the glass bottle as she set it down on the table, and Sam slid his tablet off to the side, the humor leaving his voice. "You know … being so close to Lucifer probably wasn't easy for him. Did … he say anything?"

"You two seem pretty close again," Dean added, not bothering to hide a smirk. "Just remember to hang a sock on the door next time."

Two sets of eyes turned onto her, and Alex's wings drew in close as her mouth fell open. "He's … you're right. I think being that close to Lucifer really fucked him over and he's … he's been having trouble getting back to him … to himself." She shifted in her chair, pulling her legs up so her feet could rest on the chair beside her as she reached for her beer bottle. "On the bright side," she added, the lie coming easier now that she had started, "we're back on the mend relationship-wise. I think we've finally come to an agreement on this whole deal thing of mine —" she added a quick scowl as she spoke, "— and we … after seeing Lucifer, I …"

Alex trailed off, unable to finish what she meant to say, and she quickly dropped her attention down onto her drink, picking at the plastic label. She could feel Sam and Dean exchange looks over her head, and she plucked nervously at Lucifer's grace. This time, it reacted accordingly, pressing up against hers. "Yeah, I … I understand what you mean," Sam finally said. "When I was with Lucifer, he, um … he showed me things. It was like the highlight reel of my biggest failures."

"Yeah, well, he was messing with you." Dean's voice faded into the background as Alex pulled her attention back into her head, scratching at the beer's label as she reached out for Lucifer's grace. _What are you doing?_ She sent the prayer upwards, trying to reach out along Castiel's grace towards his vessel, but what remained within her was so small, so thin, she couldn't follow the connection.

She wasn't sure who she expected to answer — Lucifer or Castiel — but it was the former's voice that echoed through her head. _Nothing of interest, little one_ , came the lazy reply. _I've taken up your suggestion of moving Earth-side. I've had enough of hell for now_.

 _Good._ Dean cleared his throat, and Alex turned her attention back onto him, pushing Lucifer to the back of her mind. "— that's ever mattered, is that we're together," Dean said, and he lifted his beercan in a half-hearted gesture. "So … shut up and drink your beer." He took a long sip, and Alex did the same, exchanging a quick look with Sam over the rim of her bottle. The Winchester's eyes had darkened, his brow furrowed, and Alex tipped her head. "So," Dean asked, unaware of the look the two had exchanged, "you gonna be able to sleep tonight?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I-I think so." Sam rubbed at his temple as he spoke, and he reached once again for his discarded laptop. "What about you?"

"Well, I still got some ringing going on in my head, but nothing some good music won't wash out." Dean pushed himself to his feet, shaking his head when Alex shifted in her chair. "I'll be fine," he promised, answering her unasked question. "Like I said, nothing a little Metallica can't cure."

He pushed in his chair and started towards the hall, but after a second's thought, Sam turned around. "Hey, you know …" His words had Dean pausing, and Sam hesitated. "I still can't figure that out," he finally said. "I mean, banshees go after the vulnerable, right? So why did it go after you?"

Dean hesitated, his eyes flickering past Sam to rest on Alex before he scoffed. "You're overthinking it," he promised. "It was going after Mildred, it saw my gold blade, acted out of self-defense. Simple."

Uncertainty flashed through his eyes, and Alex glanced over at Sam, but the hunter gave no indication that he had seen it. "Yeah," he quietly agreed. "You're probably right."

"I'm always right." Dean flashed a grin, but the humor quickly faded away, and he finished off the rest of his beer in one gulp, placing the empty can on the shelf beside him. "Night."

"Night." Sam watched as Dean walked away, and Alex echoed him as the hunter disappeared from sight. She listened to his footsteps as he walked away, the soles of his boots clicking against the tiled floor and echoing throughout the bunker. "Hey." It was Sam's voice that pulled her attention back into the library, and she blinked as she turned to face him. "How is he?"

"What do you mean?" Alex cocked her head, confusion darkening her eyes. "He seems pretty normal, all things considered. You don't think the Mark —"

"No." Sam firmly shook his head. "No, not like that. It's just … I'm not buying Dean's story. Something's … wrong." His teeth dug into his bottom lip, and Alex let her feet fall to the floor as she straightened up in her seat. "The banshee targeted him before he even had his blade out."

Alex mimicked Sam's quiet frown. "I … I think the Darkness has been getting to him," she began slowly; how much of Dean's private conversation should she relay? "I think they might have some sort of a … a connection because of the Mark, and that — it can't be good." She watched as Sam's shoulders fell, and a wing curled forward over the table to brush against his arm. "We'll fix it. We always do."

"Yeah." With a sigh, Sam pushed himself to his feet, gathering up his things. "Alright, I'm turning in for the night. You staying up?"

"For a while." Alex kicked her feet up onto the table with a shrug. "You guys go get some sleep, I'll make sure nothing supernatural sneaks up on you in the night." She ended with a teasing smile, and she watched as Sam rolled his eyes.

"Alright. Night."

"Goodnight," Alex repeated as he walked away, and she settled deep into her chair as Sam's footsteps faded down the hall. She let her grace stretch out past him, feeling for Dean; the Winchester was in his room, unmoving, but his heart beat rapidly within his chest. Alex could feel the vibrations of music pulsing through his skin, and with a sigh, she withdrew her grace back into the confines of the quiet library. The vents above her head hummed, pumping cold air down upon her wings, and the angel leaned back, her eyes falling closed as she listened to the old building settle around her.


	34. Almost Easy

**Sorry this is late - I had to go to work early and didn't have time to update this morning! Anyways, here's an original chapter, so enjoy: (the title is definitely not from a7x's song which certainly I don't listen to when I write Lucifer and Alex)  
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 **...**

 **January 11th , 2016**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **H** ot water pummeled against her back, and Alex tipped her head forward to keep the droplets from her face. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a hasty bun, a half-hearted attempt to keep it dry, but her wings were stretched out, thin feathers raised slightly to invite the water to rush between the vanes. Her grace was curled up loosely within her, resting, unmoving, beside Lucifer's and Castiel's, but at the moment, both were quiet.

Alex ran her hands up her face, tilting her head back as she arched her spine, her wings falling out behind her. She could sense the water on the ethereal feathers, an unnerving feeling, barely there, but she stretched her wings wider to chase it — what she wouldn't give to wash them properly.

She curled one forward, her fingers dancing across the new downy growth. Soft black feathers were sprouting out from pink skin, and the angel scowled as she tugged on one of the old, charred vanes; it came out at the gentle touch and fell to the ground, floating across the tile as it was washed towards the drain. With a sigh, Alex turned the water off and reached for her towel. Her wings shook out, flinging droplets of water across the slick floor as she stepped out of the shower.

She could feel the Winchesters down the hall, resting somewhere in the library, and she ducked out of the bathroom and scurried across the cold tile towards her room. Once there, she hastily threw on a pair of jeans and one of Sam's old sweatshirts, rolling up the oversized sleeves to her elbows as she dug around for a pair of socks. Lucifer's grace stirred within her, a curious, mindless question, but she shoved it down, reinforcing the wall she had built up around her mind with her grace. She hadn't heard anything from the archangel in almost two days — if he wanted to speak with her, he would have to do it in person.

Sam and Dean were still in the library when she entered, their heads bowed in conversation and their voices low, but one word caught the angel's attention. "Did I hear 'case'?" Alex jumped up the library stairs, grinning as both brothers' heads snapped up. "I could go for a case." Her eyes flickered down to a fast-food basket that was sitting in front of Dean, and she tipped her head. "What's that?"

"Elvis." Dean grinned, and Sam rolled his eyes. "It's like a Luther Burger, but with doughnuts."

"And it's got … bacon." It took her a moment, but Alex eventually shrugged off her curiosity and joined the brothers at the table. She planted her hands on Sam's shoulders, leaning down to look at the laptop in front of him, but the screen was blank.

"It's not really a case, per se." Sam's eyes flickered over to her, his head turning only ever so slightly to avoid Alex's face, which was level with his ear. "Uh, Claire actually called. She thinks she may have found a case in Sioux Falls."

Alex scoffed. "I'm not surprised. When I talked with Jody last month, she said Claire's always seeing ghosts and ghouls where they don't belong." She dropped down into the chair next to Sam with a roll of her eyes. Both brothers exchanged looks, their eyebrows lifting, and she added defensively, "What? We keep in touch. It would be good to see her again, though. It's been way too long."

"Yeah, that's … sort of the problem." Sam cleared his throat as he shifted awkwardly in his chair, and Alex's grin fell into a hesitant frown. "Claire sort of told us …"

"She doesn't want you along," Dean finished, and Alex's eyes stretched wide. "You can't really blame her," he added, picking through his donut sandwich to pull out a chunk of bacon. "You're boning her dad."

Alex pulled her wings in with a scowl. "I … I really don't like when you put it that way. Cas isn't Claire's dad, he's just sort of ... wearing Claire's dad. It's weird," she agreed when the brothers exchanged looks again, "but it's not really that hard to understand."

"We'll only be gone for a day or two," Sam promised, and Alex's scowl darkened before she forced her face back into neutrality. "You'll be fine on your own for a while."

"Of course I will." Alex shrugged off the comforting hand that came to rest on her shoulder, her wings tensed as she tried to keep the anger out of her voice. "I'm twenty four, Sam. I think I can survive unsupervised." She pushed herself to her feet, drawing in a slow breath through her nose to regain her composure. "You guys leaving now, or are you going to give Dean time to finish that monstrosity that he's got there?"

Dean's response was to roll his eyes, and Sam chuckled. "We'll head out once we finish lunch."

"Sounds good to me. I think I'll try my hand at a case of my own," Alex decided after a moment. "It's been a while since I've actually killed something, and I'm starting to get the itch." She grinned at her own joke, and she slipped out of the library with a shrug of her shoulders — only once she was out of sight did she let her eyes roll.

Lucifer's grace shifted again, a quiet, muffled suggestion, and Alex propped open her bedroom door as she dug around on her desk for her phone. She yanked the wall charger out of its socket and shoved it deep inside her sweatshirt before she grabbed the keys of the Marquis. "Are you okay?" Sam appeared in the doorway, the light of the hall framing his broad shoulders.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Alex tipped her head, confused by the softly spoken question. "Claire hates me — that's nothing new. I've got other stuff I can do. I'm sure Crowley's got something for me," she lied after a second, forcing a grimace. "He's been quiet way too long for my liking."

She pocketed the keys with a shrug, her good eye scanning the room to make sure she had grabbed everything that she needed, and she almost missed Sam's response. "I can talk to Claire —"

"Claire's a grown woman. She can decide who she likes and who she doesn't." Alex reached out to touch her blind eye, her finger brushing against the faded scar. "Besides, I don't think Jody would appreciate seeing this," she joked. "Give her my best, though." She squeezed past Sam, gently nudging him out of her way so she could enter the hall. She didn't wait for his response before she moved off in the opposite direction, pausing only once she reached the corner. Sam was still standing in the hallway, watching her go, and Alex hurried up out of sight. A case would be interesting, but the angel had a different plan in mind.

...

 **Fall Rivers, Massachusetts**

 **T** he Marquis pulled up alongside the Needham Asylum, and Alex jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind her as she turned her eyes across the overgrown property. The building was almost hidden by the moonless night, but Alex's grace guided her way as she slunk through the half-opened iron gate. A shape flitted in the shadows; the angel's head snapped towards it, but she pressed on towards the front door.

It was unlocked and opened easily beneath her touch, and Alex slipped inside, her wings raised warily as she surveyed the empty halls. The air was tinged with sulfur, a sure sign that demons were nearby, and the angel hurried forward, her feet carrying her silently towards the throne room at the other end of the hall. Lucifer's grace had fallen still within her, but she could feel its presence growing as she drew closer to the source, a chill as refreshing as a mountain spring on a summer's day.

The arched double doors swung open as she reached them, and Alex lifted her chin to hide her surprise. Demons occupied the stone room, standing in front of the iron throne; though they blocked Alex's view, the angel could see the crimson pair of wings that stretched out on either side, the black-tipped feathers dragging lazily against the stone. A flick of a hand had the demons skittering away, and Alex stepped into the room as the doors closed behind them.

"There you are." Lucifer's voice was low, a quiet purr, and he beckoned her forward with a flick of his wings. "I've been waiting."

Alex slowly crossed the stone floor, her eyes sweeping across the torch-lit walls. "So you actually did move camp up here," she noted, purposefully keeping her eyes from the archangel as she came to rest a few feet in front of him. "I wasn't sure if you would."

The devil chuckled, and his lips twisted into a mocking pout. "I told you I would be here," he reminded. "You know that I'll never lie to you." His grace snuck out, wrapping around her and pulling her forward, and Alex found herself toe-to-toe with him in seconds. His hands replaced his grace, his fingers curling through her belt loops, and a sharp tug had Alex falling forward. Her knees planted against the solid iron seat, and her hands went out to grab the headrest of the throne, but Lucifer's hands held her steady. "Now." He tugged again so Alex was sitting, straddling his thighs. "What brings you here?"

Unsure where to put her arms, Alex awkwardly folded them against her chest as she looked down at the archangel. "Sam and Dean had stuff they needed to do," she muttered, her wings stretching out behind her to keep her balanced on his lap. "And your grace kept fidgeting, so I thought you wanted me to come here."

Lucifer hummed, and a cold finger came up to brush across her blinded eye. "That's right." The finger moved down to tap the tip of her nose, a playful gesture that was undermined by a dark glint in his blue eyes. "You've learned a new trick, haven't you, angel?" His grace pressed up besides her, pulsing against the barrier around her mind, and with one sharp push, the wall fractured.

Alex couldn't hold back the yelp of surprise that slipped past her lips; Lucifer's grace rushed inwards, soothing the tiny pinpricks of pain. She opened her mouth, ready to speak, but Lucifer's hand dropped down to grip her chin, his tight hold bordering on painful.

"Don't ever do it again," he ordered, and Alex's wings flickered downwards at the command in his voice. "I don't know what _Castiel_ expected of you —"

"Who do you think was the one who taught me that?" Alex pried her head free of Lucifer's grasp, and his hand dropped back down to her hip, keeping her still. "You can blame Cas for that one."

"I blame him for a lot." Lucifer's eyes slipped past her towards the ground at his side, and Alex followed his gaze, jerking back in surprise at the sight of Crowley.

The demon was crouched in the corner, his hands shackled with thick iron cuffs, and Alex's eyes widened. "Crowley?" She turned her head more fully so her good eye could take in the sight of his attire. A blue Hawaiian shirt, grey t-shirt, and cargo shorts — unusual clothes for the ex-King of Hell. She turned back to Lucifer, her head tipped to the side. "Why's he dressed like he just got off a cruise?"

The grin on Lucifer's face made it clear that he was pleased she had noticed. "You know, the suit and tie just wasn't doing it for me." He bounced one leg, a signal for Alex to move, and the young angel quickly slid back so she could stand on the floor once again. "I like it, don't you? It brings a little bit of festivity to the place."

She felt Lucifer's grace twist, a silent prompt for her to speak, and she pursed her lips. "Sure," she half-heartedly agreed. Lucifer reclined in the throne, tapping his chin as he regarded the demon at his side. Crowley's eyes never left the floor, and as Alex watched, a faint tremor passed through him: fear, anger? The angel couldn't tell.

She stepped back as Lucifer rose to his feet, and a crimson wing brushed across her back. "You know, I'm glad you showed up." Cold fingers ran across her shoulder, and Alex stifled a shiver as the touch moved to her wings. "I've been digging through Castiel's memories, and I want to return to Karachi. You're welcome to come with."

His lips brushed against her ear as he spoke, and Alex's wings drew in close as she forced her gaze to stay on Crowley. "You're sure you want to leave?"

Cold arms enveloped her waist. "The demons won't try anything," Lucifer promised. "You know how it is. Twist a few arms, snap a few necks. They always fall back into line." A hint of darkness crept into his voice as his eyes turned down onto Crowley, and Alex felt him stiffen. "Of course, he won't be able to stay here unattended. Isn't that right, puppy?"

"Yes, sir." Crowley didn't lift his eyes from the ground, and Alex frowned, her eyes flitting over to Lucifer.

The archangel snapped his fingers, and the thick chain that bound Crowley's hands to the far wall fell away. "Come on, puppy. Get up." He waved Crowley to his feet, and Alex shifted her weight onto her soles. The demon rose stifflu, shuffling across the concrete floor to stand in front of them, and Lucifer threw an arm around both of their shoulders, pulling them close. "Lighten up," he teased, and Crowley visibly flinched as Lucifer's grip tightened. "This is going to be fun."

...

 **Karachi, Pakistan**

 **T** he heat of Karachi hit Alex like a ton of bricks the moment that they landed, and the young angel's wings unfurled from her side, feathers stretched to catch the hot breeze. She rolled up the sleeves of her thick, oversized sweatshirt as she looked around the cracked alleyway. Buildings loomed all around them, and Alex's good eye stretched wide as she looked towards the bustling streets. The air was humming with commotion, hot and arid, and it smelled like — like humanity.

Cold grace flicked up against her, and Alex whipped her head back towards the archangel to find that Lucifer was already moving in the opposite direction, Crowley trailing obediently behind him.

Alex hurried after them, slowing down to walk at Lucifer's side as they stepped out onto the busy market street. "Where are we going?" she asked, her voice a low whisper as they wove their way among the crowds; a quick glance behind her showed that Crowley was staying close, his eyes fixed submissively on the ground. "And why … why did we bring him?"

"We brought him because leaving him on the other side of the world with a building full of his old supporters is a bad idea." Lucifer didn't alter his stride, and Alex flicked a wing, unsure if she shared in his confidence. "And we're here for this." He pushed his way into one of the dark, looming buildings, and Alex held the door open for Crowley to make sure that the demon followed him in.

"This ... is a library." The door swung closed behind her, and Alex turned to examine the dim interior, cool in comparison to the hot outside air. "And you said Cas had been here? I don't ever remember him coming to Karachi." She watched as the archangel moved deeper into the room, his eyes fixed on the shelves stuffed full of manuscripts, and she folded her arms across her chest. "You dragged me to the other side of the globe so I could watch you read scrolls? I wanted to She felt Lucifer's grace twist, a silent prompt for her to speak, and she pursed her lips. _kill_ something today, not do … this." Lucifer hummed, his wingtip flicking towards Crowley as he pulled an old papyrus book off of the shelf, and Alex pursed her lips at unspoken suggestion. "No, I'm not going to kill Crowley," she retorted. "Come on, Luce. Be serious."

"I was." Exasperation lined Lucifer's voice as he dropped the book down onto a rickety wooden table. "Unfortunately, I'm the only one who can stop the Darkness — only one who cares, anyways — so I'm sorry that I don't have time to play with you. Here." He waved a hand off towards Crowley again. "Take him outside and have a look around. This place is overrun with monsters, so I'm sure you can find something between the two of you."

He waved again, a dismissive flick of his hand, but Alex stood her ground, her wings flaring out. "Oh great, so on top of it all, you're making me babysit? Thanks."

"You're the one who insisted on keeping him." With a sigh and a roll of his head, Lucifer straightened up and circled around the table to stand in front of her. "If it helps, think of him as a … tour guide." The archangel's eyes flashed as he turned to face the demon, and the softness left his face. "Don't let her get in over her head, and make sure you're back by dark," he ordered. Crowley nodded , and Lucifer grinned, his tongue pressed up against his teeth. "Good puppy."

He waved them away with a flick of his wing, returning to the table, and Alex let Crowley pull her back out of the door and into the hot street. "Come on." Crowley tugged her away from the library, and Alex had to break into a half-jog to keep up with him.

"Hey, hey. Slow down." Alex yanked her hand out of his, and the demon spun around, his brown eyes flashing furiously. "What's gotten into you, huh? This whole complacency act — that's not like you. You should be gone by now."

She snapped her fingers to emphasize her point, and Crowley scowled. "You think I don't want to?" he hissed, his eyes darting behind her towards the library they had just left. "Trust me, kitten, I'll be gone first chance I have, but with these …" He held up his shackled hands to show off the familiar carved handcuffs. "Afraid I'm not going anywhere fast."

"Oh yeah. I forgot Cas still had a pair of those in his trunk." Alex flicked a wing, a signal for Crowley to follow her down the street. "So you're just going to roll over and be his bitch, huh? Not to be an asshole here, but I think we can all agree that you had this coming for a while now."

"Laugh about it while you can." Crowley spat the words out, and Alex glanced over at him, surprised by the uncontrolled anger that momentarily darkened his voice. "You don't see what you've done here, do you? Letting Lucifer out upon the world!"

"Hold up." Alex grabbed the demon by the shirt sleeve, pulling him back as she stepped in front of him to look up into his face. "Let's get something straight here, Crowley. _I_ didn't do any of this. Maybe you can't remember, but I was specifically _against_ him getting out from the get-go. You want to blame someone, you blame Cas, because he's the one who let Luce jump his bones and ride him out of hell."

A man jostled up against her wings, and Crowley reached out to nudge her to the side, his eyes narrowed warily as he scanned the streets. "And that's all well and good, little mouse, but that doesn't change the fact that he's here, and you're the only one who seems to appreciate that." He pulled her after him down the road, moving as quickly as he could through the crowded streets. "You do realize that you're just like me, right?" he added, his voice a low hiss.

"Excuse me?" Alex yanked herself free, and Crowley scowled to find that they had once again stopped in the middle of the street. "I'm nothing like you. You're … you." She tugged on the thin shoulder of the Hawaiian shirt, her lips pulled up into a grimace to emphasize her point.

"Maybe I'm the one in chains, but you're just as bound as I am."

His voice was so low, Alex almost missed it beneath the clamor of the streets. "Why are you whispering?"

"Because _he_ could hear! How do you think he knew about that wall you put up? He wants to be inside your head so he knows what you're doing." Crowley pulled her after him, and Alex glanced behind her to see that the library was no longer in sight. "For all we know, he's listening right now."

"Okay, well, here —" Alex lifted her grace, ready to construct another wall, but Lucifer's orders had her hesitating. The faintest hint of a smirk played on Crowley's lips — damn demon could see her reluctance — and Alex quickly threw the wall up with a shake of her wings. "There. Now he can't spy on us. Stop being so … sulky and find me something to do."

They started down the street again, walking side by side, and Alex shoved her hands deep inside of her pockets to keep herself from dismantling the barrier that she had implemented: Lucifer couldn't tell her what to do.

Right?

"You're thinking about taking it down, aren't you?" Crowley's posture had changed; he held himself up higher, his head lifted, and despite the baggy outfit and unshaven face, he carried himself with an air of regality.

"No," Alex retorted, and she turned her eyes to the city around them, ignoring how her answer came too loud, too fast. "Of course not," she added after a moment's pause. "Lucifer … well, I don't think he sees me as an equal, but I think he respects me."

"You want to know what I think?" Crowley didn't wait for a response before he answered his own question. "I think he's manipulating you. I don't know what the two of you got up to when you were younger, but I _know_ Lucifer." Alex rolled his eyes, and the demon scowled. "He's a monster — incapable of any sort of love. He doesn't care for you — he doesn't even respect you — he is _using_ you!"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?!" Incredulity filled Crowley's voice. "No, not maybe — definitely. You thought working for me was bad, wait until —"

"Can we _please_ just focus?" Alex's wings flared up, her good eye flashing blue with grace, and Crowley fell silent, his lips pursed tightly together. "I appreciate the warning, and I appreciate you sticking around and not trying to run off and leave me stranded here alone, but can we not talk about Lucifer for five minutes?"

Defiance flickered across Crowley's face, followed by momentary amusement, but it all quickly fell back into a placid expression. "We'll keep heading east," he decided. "There's a few blocks that have been all but abandoned — gang violence, extremists — nothing out of the ordinary in these parts. And the closest monster hotspot, from what I recall."

He lead the way around the corner, turning down a thin, sparsely occupied street. Alex let her grace slip out, feeling along the empty buildings. "So, what kind of monsters run around here? Vampires? Shifters?"

"Not quite. We're dealing with a whole different ecosystem." Crowley walked down the middle of the street, his posture lax, but Alex caught sight of his eyes flickering warily towards a darkened, rotting building. Suddenly, he paused, his chin lifted as he inhaled deeply. "Do you smell that? _That_ is death."

Alex's nostrils flared as she scented the air. The metallic tang of blood hung there, and beneath that, the taint of death. "It's close by." She hurried off towards one of the looming buildings, pausing in the doorway to make sure that Crowley was following. "Come on," she urged. "Let's see what it is." She drew her angel blade as she spoke, waiting for Crowley's nod before she plunged into the darkness.

The inside was dark and cool — almost damp, but the scent of death clung to the very walls. Alex reached out with her grace, feeling for the source as she moved inwards. Crowley walked at her side, toying impatiently with his handcuffs. "Body's upstairs," he announced. "Third floor."

He sauntered past her, heading for the stairs, and Alex followed after him with a frown. The concrete stairs were chipped and cracked, with large chunks missing every few feet, but Alex moved up them silently, her footing sure despite the darkness that enveloped her. Her wings folded in against her back as they reached the third level, and she slipped past Crowley the moment she stepped out onto the landing. Her grace led her to the room at the far end of the hall, and the angel lifted it to her eyes to peer into the dim room.

A single window sat in the far wall, letting light trickle in through the dirty glass. It illumined part of the floor, where dried blood stained the concrete. The puddle was disrupted, streaked by drag marks that led off to the corner.

That was where the body lay. At first, Alex didn't recognize it; the shapeless lump was red and slick, and it took the angel a moment to see that it was human. "What the hell?" She stepped into the room to make room for Crowley, her grace flicking curiously as she stared down at the corpse. "Hey, check it out." She crouched down beside it, her head tipped to one side. "Is this … he's been _skinned_."

She glanced back up at Crowley, a grin playing on her lips, but the demon seemed far less impressed. "Yes," he agreed. "That happens a lot in these parts."

"And someone's been munching," Alex added, ignoring his quip. She pointed towards the neck and shoulders, where the muscle had been torn away in bite-sized depressions. "Cool, cool." Crowley hissed out a warning, and she pushed herself back to her feet, wiping her hands off on her jeans as she turned to face him. "Come on, Crowley, lighten up."

"Shh," he repeated, his voice a low whisper. "There's someone here."

Alex's grace snapped out, and her fingers tightened around her weapon as she turned back towards the door. "You're right," she mutteree, and she shook out her wings as she drew her grace back in. "Human."

Footsteps sounded from the stairs, drawing closer with each step, and with a glance back at Crowley, Alex stepped out into the hall. "Hello?" she called, her eyes flickering towards where the light of a flashlight peeked out from behind the corner. "Who's there?"

The footsteps stopped, and the hot scent of fear spiked the air, but it was quickly quelled. "Who's there?" came the response, and Alex rolled her eyes. After a second, the footsteps started up again, and a shape came around the corner. It was a female, from what Alex could tell; it was difficult to see past the bright flashlight. The stranger wore a dark blue shalwar kameez, hiding her thin frame, but Alex could sense the muscles that lay beneath; it was evident in the way she moved, the way she stood.

And in the way she held the gun. The shining black muzzle was pointed directly at the angel, and Alex slowly lifted her hands to show her innocence. "Calm down," she started. "We're not here to hurt anyone, are we, Crowley?" She glanced over her shoulder in search of the demon, but he hadn't followed her out of the room.

The flashlight dropped down, and Alex lowered her hands, reaching back to tuck her angel blade into her jeans. "Who are you?" The woman spoke again, her accent thick, but the foreign words translated easily in Alex's mind. "Identify yourselves."

"My name is Alex." Alex put a hand on her chest to gesture to herself before she jerked a thumb behind her. "I've got a friend in there with a body. We didn't put it there —"

"Of course you didn't." The woman cut her off with a dismissive sniff, and Alex frowned. "Let me guess — the body is missing its skin." When Alex nodded, she lowered the gun. "You should get out of here. It's not safe."

"Good." Alex flicked her wing off towards the door where the body lay. "That's why we're here." The woman stepped forward, sure and confident, and Alex squinted. "You … you don't seem surprised. Are you a hunter?"

"A … hunter?" The woman's head tipped to the side, and the fabric of her headscarf shifted in the dim light. "You're American, aren't you?" Her flashlight pointed downwards, illuminating the _STANFORD_ scrawled across Alex's sweatshirt. "You speak perfect Balochi." Her eyes widened slightly as they slipped past her, and Alex felt Crowley step into view.

"Oh yeah. That's Crowley." She waved the demon forward with her wing. "He's … he's with me, kinda. Ignore the … the chains."

Confusion danced across the woman's face, but she hid it with a respectful dip of her head. "My name is Mahira Owais, daughter of Owais Nadeem. Peace be with you. You … you call yourself hunters. You're _shikari_?"

The word didn't translate, and Alex tipped her head. "If you mean do we kill things that go bump in the night, then yeah. Do you have any idea of what did that in there?" Alex jerked a thumb back towards the body in the other room. "I … I've never seen anything that skins a person like that. Was that intentional?"

"It was a Nesnas." Mahira's flashlight danced across the two of them, and several seconds of tense silence followed before her posture relaxed and she motioned them closer. "If you are _shikari_ , you should return with me. Father will be pleased with more help."

"Sounds good to me." Alex followed the woman towards the stairs, only pausing when she found that Crowley wasn't following. "Come on," she added, her wings rising slightly in warning. "Luce said you had to stick with me, right? That means you're coming with."

"You're insane." Crowley hurried after her, following her down the stairs, and Alex rolled her eyes. "Do you know who these people are?"

"They're hunters —"

" _English_." Crowley hissed out the word, and Alex snapped her mouth shut. "These people are part of the _bhangi_ caste — the untouchables. You really think that Lucifer wants you hanging around these people?"

"I think Lucifer isn't going to find out." Alex spoke slowly, carefully enunciating to keep her languages straight. "You catch my drift?"

"Loud and clear." Crowley's eyes darkened as they stepped out into the street, but the cocky confidence didn't leave his voice. "But if he does, just make it clear that _I_ was against this from the start."

"Come on, Crowls. Live a little." The demon stiffened at the nickname, and Alex couldn't help but grin, drawing him closer with her broken wings. "People are people, and Lucifer hates them all equally. Mahira." Alex hurried forward to walk at the woman's side, leaving Crowley to scowl after her. "So, this Nesnas. What is it?"

The woman jumped, surprised to find the angel so near, but the shock was quickly quenched as her face hardened into placid stone. "They're monsters," she explained. "Half-human, half-demon."

"That's wrong," Crowley corrected from behind, but Alex ignored him with a flick of her wing.

Mahira glanced backwards, brown eyes narrowed as she tried to understand what the demon had said, but the English was lost upon her. "They feed on the good," she continued after a moment's pause, "and eat their skin. They appear every few years, but we've seen almost five in the past month."

She led the way down a darkened alleyway, her heels clicking on the cracked stone. "And I'm guessing that's unusual," Alex finished, and Mahira nodded. She rapped on a wooden door buried in the brick exterior, and Alex heard movement on the other side of the wall. She let her grace spread out, counting the souls within. One, two … four. Four humans.

The door creaked open beneath Mahira's touch, and Alex glanced back to make sure that Crowley was close by before she followed the woman into the building. Her grace rose up to her good eye as she stepped across the threshold, but even then it took a moment for her to adjust to the thick darkness that clung to the bare walls. An electric lamp sat at the far end of the room, placed on the floor in the middle of several crates. Three men sat there, their heads turned to watch their entrance — as soon as Alex stepped aside, they jumped to their feet, eyes wide.

Crowley stood in the doorway, his head tipped back to look up towards the ceiling; Alex followed his gaze to find a black circle painted on the stone above his head. Symbols were scrawled in the center, unfamiliar to the young angel, but the meaning was clear. "Devil's trap."

"Bollocks," Crowley added, and his eyes momentarily flashed red as he turned his face back towards Alex. "Do you mind?"

"Demon." The word was hissed out, and Mahira jumped away, her brown eyes wide as she stared at Crowley. An older man pushed his way forward, his face dark. "Mahira. What have you done?"

"It's okay." Alex shifted to place herself in front of the stranger, and he pulled up short, his thick brow furrowed. "He's as harmless as a puppy." Crowley huffed, displeased with her choice in words, and Alex lifted her chin higher to try and match the man's height. "My name is Alex."

"They are _shikari_ , just like us." Mahira hurried forward to stand at Alex's side. "They were hunting the Nesnas. I thought …" Her eyes dropped down to the ground, her sudden rush of courage dissipating. "I thought that maybe more hands would be better."

Alex's grace snuck out, cracking the devil's trap so Crowley could walk free, and she motioned him closer with a wing. The man's eyes darkened as he watched the demon cross over to stand just behind Alex, his jaw tight, but it relaxed when his gaze turned down onto the carved handcuffs. "They're American," he stated, and when Mahira nodded, his lips pursed. "We don't often let foreigners into our home," he warned, "but perhaps tonight can be made an exception."

He walked away, and Alex watched him go through narrowed eyes. "Seems like a nice guy," she muttered under her breath.

"That is my father. Owais Nadeem. Those two are my brothers. Syed Dhiren Owais and Syed Kishan Owais." Mahira pointed to the two young men in turn; neither openly acknowledged them, but Alex could feel that she held their attention. "My mother, Hiya Malik Owais, is in the back room." Mahira moved off towards the lantern, and Alex followed with a shrug. "Ren, Kishan. This is Alex." She delicately sat down on the wooden crate across from her brothers, and Alex dropped down into the seat next to her.

Two sets of eyes turned onto her, one light, one dark, and Alex flicked her chin upwards in a short, quick greeting. "Hey. Nice to meet you." The eyes turned past her onto Crowley, and the angel rolled her eyes. "Come on, Crowley, take a seat." She patted the bench next to her, and the demon did as she asked with a thin frown. Pleased, Alex turned back to the _shikari_. "So, what's so special about tonight?"

Ren and Kishan exchanged looks, a smile playing upon their lips. "Nesnas," Kishan finally answered, reaching up to sweep black hair out of his angular face. "There is a whole nest of them up near the Tower. Father wants to move on them tonight."

"If you are _shikari_ ," Ren added, "your help would be greatly appreciated." He was clearly the oldest of the two; it was obvious in the way he held his head. "And you, sister," he added to Mahira, "are just in time to help Mother with supper."

Mahira hurried away, and Alex watched her go. "Alex, this isn't a good idea." Crowley's shackles clanked as he shifted uncomfortably upon the crate. "Lucifer told me to do two things. This plan — it violates _both_ of those."

Alex reached up to probe at the wall around her mind before she dropped her attention down to Lucifer's grace; it sat there, silent, and she drew away with a small, relieved sigh. "So," she began, turning back to the brothers, "this is your home?" She looked around the dark building with a frown; the only features were two doors and the crates upon which they sat.

Ren frowned, but Kishan laughed. "No, it isn't," he promised. "We move around to where the monsters are. And when there are none, we stay with our Ammi and Appi."

"Our grandparents have a home outside the city," Ren added, his frown redirected towards his brother. "It isn't much, but it's big enough for all of us."

"Our mother's parents have a big house," Kishan added, and Ren's frown sharpened into a glare. Kishan shook his head. "Relax, brother, they are American. Such information means nothing to them. They live in India," he added over to Alex. "In Rajkot. Have you ever been there?"

Crowley gave a nondescript shrug, but Alex shook her head. "This is my first time leaving the states — America," she quickly corrected.

Small footsteps came from the door behind her, and Alex turned to watch a young boy rush in, dressed in a brown sherwani and white pants. His brown eyes went wide at the sight of Alex and Crowley. "Daniyal." Ren waved the boy over, and the child bolted to stand behind him, peeking out from around his brother's shoulder. Kishan chuckled, his golden-brown eyes alight with amusement, but Ren's face remained stony. "You must excuse my younger brother," he apologized. "He's never seen strangers such as yourselves."

"He's likely more frightened by your eye," Kishan added, and Alex's hand went up to cover her blindness. " _Shikari_ , it's a dangerous business."

He spoke lightly, but the intensity in his eyes made it clear he hoped for a story. "It is," was all Alex said.

"If I may —"

"You may say nothing, demon!" The crate tipped as Ren sharply rose to his feet. Daniyal flinched away, caught off guard by the rage, and Ren reached down to comfort him. "Dinner will be ready shortly," he announced; a gently push on Daniyal's shoulders had the boy hurrying back towards the kitchen. "I'll go find Father."

He left, and Alex watched him go, waiting until he was out of earshot before she spoke again. "You don't have to worry about Crowley," she promised Kishan. "He's not going to harm anyone, with or without these chains."

The humor had died from the teen's face. "I don't know your traditions," he warned, "but in our land, working with demons is forbidden."

"It's not exactly promoted where I'm from, either." Alex shifted on the wooden crate, a sidelong glance cast in Crowley's direction. "But sometimes circumstances change. And these here —" She pointed down to the handcuffs, "— they make him as harmless as you or I."

"Perhaps." Kishan rose to his feet, bending slightly in a quick bow. "I should go help with dinner. If you will excuse me." He hurried away, and Alex flicked a wing dismissively as he left the room.

"What do you know about Nesnas?" Alex propped one elbow up on her knee as she turned to face the demon; a quick glance at Ren and Kishan showed that they had turned away to talk among themselves. "You seemed to know a bit back there."

"I know what I need to," Crowley cryptically promised. "For example, they are _not_ demons in any shape or form. They do, however, feed on the holy, so perhaps these hunters aren't as incompetent as they first seem."

Alex rolled her eyes, but she refused to take the demon's bait. "Feed on the holy, huh? Guess you're safe, then."

"Likewise," Crowley retorted, and Alex's wings flittered at the insult. "The girl was right about them being uncommon. They're like wendigos: poor-tempered and territorial. You said that Castiel was here recently?"

"Apparently. It couldn't have been more than two weeks ago." Alex rolled her eyes back into her head as she thought. "Maybe three. What, you think —"

"Wretched as he is, he's more holy than anything these lot have seen." Crowley's blunt fingernails scratched at the iron cuffs, and he scowled. "Last time I've seen them congregate like this, Gabriel was popping his head up in places it didn't belong." His eyes flickered off to scan the empty room. "We should go now, while they're not looking."

"We're not _prisoners_. And no, we're not going." Alex lowered her voice, casting a glance over her shoulder towards the kitchen. "That would be rude." She folded her hands in her lap as she settled down upon her crate. "We're staying for dinner, and we're staying for the hunt."

...

 **D** usk came, and Alex found herself standing outside on the cracked concrete streets. The sun's rays were still barely visible in the sky, tinging it a faint purple. Lucifer would be wondering where they were soon. Alex pushed the thought away as soon as it surfaced, turning her attention back onto the people who stood in front of her. Ren and Kishan stood close by, stiff and silent. Mahira stood at their side; she had changed her clothes, now dressed in black — with her headscarf drawn up, she was almost invisible in the dark. Owais, the father, stood the furthest from her. A second man was with him, older and darker; he was Rashid, Owais' brother, if Alex remembered the whispered introductions correctly. "Here." She was stirred from her thoughts by Ren, a brass knife in his hand — the blade was almost as long as Alex's forearm. "You will be needing this."

"Actually, I'm good. I've got my own." Alex reached back to draw her angel blade. The silver metal glowed dimly in the night, and she felt the others' attention turn onto her. "It'll kill everything short of Gabriel himself."

Her joke was met with silence; Kishan chuckled, but it was quickly silenced by his father's frown. "Let's go." Owais led the way towards the looming building, handing out directions as he went. "Rashid, Kishan take the north stairwell. Mahira, go east and take our guests. Ren, with me."

Ren hesitated, the blade in his hand still outstretched. His eyes flickered towards Crowley, darkening as a thought passed through his mind. Alex shook her head before he could voice it. "He'll be fine," she promised. "He doesn't need to be armed. Come on, Crowley." She hurried after Mahira, glancing behind to make sure that the demon was following; he was, albeit reluctantly.

"This is a bad idea." Crowley lengthened his stride to walk beside her as they entered the building, the darkness hiding the scowl on his face. "Lucifer is going to find out where we are any minute —"

"Crowley, _stop_. He gave me the okay to hunt, remember, and second — second, I don't need his permission anyways!" She followed Mahira towards a dark, yawning staircase, her grace going out to feel along the concrete walls. "So, Mahira, where exactly are we heading?" she added, careful to use her grace to speak.

"This building was once used to for government transportation. It was abandoned long before I was born due to growing tensions between local groups. There are tunnels down below — we think that is how the nesnas are getting around the city."

"You're brave." Crowley spoke in the native tongue, and Mahira spared him a look. "It's shocking that Daddy let his little girl go off on her own. Especially with such … dangerous creatures around."

Mahira's eyes flashed. "You think that I am afraid of you?" The long bronze knife in her hand pointed towards the demon's chest as she turned to face him. "I have no fear for a lowly demon that is bound to a _shikari_!"

"Lowly demon." Crowley repeated the phrase, his eyes alight in amusement. "I suppose that's all you see, isn't it, darling? A crossroads demon following a girl around like a dog." He spat out the last word, but Mahira's indignation didn't fade. "I was the bloody King of Hell until last week!"

"Let's keep going." Alex inserted herself between the two of them, nodding towards the stairs. "Crowley, shut up for once in your goddamn life." She stalked down the stairs; a flick of her grace showed that both were following.

"Just remember that everything is not always what it seems," she heard Crowley murmur. "You of all people should know that."

"Crowley!" Alex's grace snapped out, and Mahira's lantern flickered violently. She could _feel_ the demon's smug smirk, and she quickened her pace to reach the landing of the basement. Crowley did the same, his handcuffs clinking as he looked around through the darkness. "There's something down here," Alex whispered, just loud enough for him and Mahira to hear. Her grace snaked upstairs, feeling for the four human souls that scoured the upper floors.

"Two," Crowley added. "And a third further away. We should split up."

"There's only one lantern." Mahira lifted hers to emphasize her words. "Nesnas thrive in the dark. They will be upon you before you can see them coming."

"That isn't a problem for Crowley and I." Alex's grace rose to her eyes, and the shadows of the dark room faded away, revealing every nook and cranny in the large room. "But I think we should stick together," she added after a second. "I don't want to leave you on your own."

To her surprise, Mahira scoffed. "I was my father's firstborn, and I was expected to follow in his footsteps. He has trained me since I first learned to walk." She twirled her blade in her hand as she spoke, and she ended by pointing the knife off behind her shoulder. "We should go left."

A scream pierced the air, high-pitched and inhuman, and Alex's wings flared up, feathers ruffled outwards to make herself appear larger than life. "There's four now." Crowley's eyes narrowed, lifting his chin as he spoke. "They're calling for more."

"Why?" To Mahira's credit, her voice didn't shake, but Alex could smell the hint of fear that filled the air.

"They're attracted to feed on the good and holy. And what's a better feast than an angel?" Crowley stepped forward to stand at Alex's side, his eyes narrowed as he peered into the darkness. "Be careful," he added in English, his voice a low hum. "Even nesnas can harm you if there are enough."

"I'll be fine." Something flickered through the shadows, tall, dark, and fast, and Alex's weight shifted onto the balls of her feet, ready to move at a moment's notice. "They're here."

The shadows exploded into life. Something ducked past her, thin and rotting, and Alex's head recoiled. Her wings drew in, out of the creature's reach, and she felt Crowley's back brush up against hers. "One on the left," he murmured, his voice quiet and calm. "Two more up ahead."

"Fourth's circling around," Alex finished, and she heard Crowley hum in agreement. "Alright, that's doable —"

"I saw one." Mahira broke into their whispers, and her lantern turned away from them. "It's trying to get behind us."

"They're flanking us — wait, Mahira!" Alex's wings flicked angrily as the woman rushed away, chasing after the nesnas. She moved to follow, but Crowley caught her by the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "They're after us, not her," he reminded. "Let's kill them and get out of here."

He nodded off behind her, and Alex turned to watch two figures staggering towards them. The rotting scent of death filled the air; rotten flesh clung to their bones, sluffing off on the extremities. One was missing its arm, the other its leg. Neither had eyes.

The taller one snarled, revealing ragged, yellowed teeth, and Alex twisted her weapon in her hand. "Stay back," she ordered Crowley, "I got —"

The creatures leapt forward, claws extended and blackened sockets wide. The shorter one lagged behind, slowed by its missing leg, and Alex lunged forward to meet the first. A large hand swung out, claws flashing through the air, and the angel's shoes squeaked against the concrete floor as she slid to duck the blow. She threw her shoulder into the creature's stomach, hissing as she felt the flesh squish — their momentum sent the nesnas tumbling over her shoulder.

The second creature was upon her before she could regain her footing, and Alex hissed as claws tore into her cheek. Her grace immediately rose, healing the wound, but the blow sent her to the ground. She caught herself with her hands, grunting as the hilt of her weapon dug into her hands. Alex twisted, pivoting on one foot as she threw the other out, and she swept the beast's one leg out from under it.

It toppled, and Alex threw herself after him, burying the hilt of her blade into its chest. The nesnas died with a scream, but Alex didn't waste time to gloat, rolling off to the side to avoid the second's counterattack. She felt its claws rip at the air above her, and she flared her wings out to balance as she spun around. The moment her feet planted against the ground, she threw herself forward, tackling the second beast.

She buried her weapon into its heart, and it died with a twitch, leaving Alex gasping for breath. She looked up for Crowley, grinning wide at the adrenaline, but the demon was nowhere to be found —

Hands gripped her sweatshirt and hauled her to her feet, spinning her around and slamming her into the wall. Alex gasped, her wings folding to try and cushion her fall, but the impact knocked her weapon from her hand. Her fists curled, ready to strike, but Lucifer's cold grace rising within her had the fight draining from her very bones.

Blue eyes glinted, icy cold, and Alex reached up to wrap her hands around the wrists that held her pinned. "Lucifer?" The name sounded quiet and pained, and Alex steeled her voice before she spoke again. "Luce?" she repeated. "The hell are you doing here?"

"I thought I told you to be back before dark." Lucifer's eyes flickered off to the side, and Alex followed his gaze to where Crowley stood, pressed against the wall. His eyes were on the ground, his hands folded in front of him, and Alex hissed at his submissiveness. A cold finger tilted her chin back towards him, and Alex reluctantly returned her eyes to the archangel. "And," he added, "I thought I told you never to do _this_."

His grace swelled up within her, shattering the barrier she had constructed, and Alex shrieked as its shards flew everywhere, embedding themselves inside her skull. She expected Lucifer's grace to flood through her, soothing the pain like it had last time, but it pulled away, staying just out of reach.

It took a second or two, but she felt him relax, his fingers letting go of her sweatshirt. "I'm sorry." His grace rose up as it had before, soothing the pain, and his forehead pressed into hers. "I get … scared when I can't feel you. When I can't find you." He pulled back, his face softening and his wings falling back to his side. "This part of town is dangerous, little one. How did you find yourself here?"

"I —" Crowley opened his mouth to speak, but Lucifer held up a hand, and the demon cut off with a spluttered choke, his eyes going wide as he gasped for air.

"I wanted to go hunting." Alex pressed her grace up against Lucifer, and the archangel released his hold on Crowley. "This was the best spot I could find. I —"

Lucifer stiffened, his wings snapping up in shock, and Alex felt his grace quiver. She could feel why — a bronze blade was thrust between his ribs, buried deep into the flesh. His hands fell away from her sweatshirt, and he spun around, one hand going out to catch the perpetrator by the throat. "Excuse me?" Lucifer lifted the man up, his eyes glowing orange with his grace, and in their light Alex could make out the man's face; Rashid, Mahira's uncle. "That wasn't very nice."

The sound of cracking bone echoed through the quiet room, a sharp, wet sound, and Rashid's head rolled to the side. "Hey!" Alex's shout was lost beneath the _thud_ as the body hit the ground. "What the hell!" She slid out from behind Lucifer, but she knew the man was dead even before she stood in front of him; his eyes were glassy, his neck twisted.

A sound had Alex's head snapping to the side in time to watch Kishan scrambled to his feet, having tripped over a discarded pipe. It skittered across the floor, and the teen ran in the other direction, struggling to stay upright as he bolted. Lucifer's wings rose, ready to pursue, but Alex grabbed onto his wrist. "Don't!" She tugged at his arm, and Lucifer immediately turned back to her, his wings falling back to his side. "What was that? You didn't have to kill him."

"I didn't," he conceded, "but I did." He pulled the bronze knife out of his side and discarded it to the side with a roll of his eyes. "I think attempted homicide is justification for self-defense." Alex's mouth fell open, and Lucifer pulled her close, an arm wrapped around her waist. "Time to go home, little one." His wings unfolded, and then they were gone.

...

 **Fall Rivers, Massachusetts**

 **A** lex tapped her fingers along the edge of the iron throne, running them up and down the armrest as she waited impatiently for Lucifer's return. The room was empty, devoid of life, but despite the emptiness, the air was warm — borderline uncomfortable, even. She could hear movement from deeper within the asylum, could smell the sulfur that lingered in the air, and she shifted uncomfortably on the hard seat.

Feathers ruffled, followed immediately by a cool, calming presence, and Alex's broken wings flicked in greeting as she let her eyes turn onto Lucifer. He stood alone, Crowley nowhere in sight, and the angel's head tipped. "Where is he?" she asked, and her eyes shifted past him.

Lucifer chuckled, and he circled around the back of the throne as his wings brushed against her. "Your little pet is safe," he promised, his fingers brushing across her shoulder; a gentle tap signaled for her to stand, and Alex rose so Lucifer could sit down in her place. He tugged her onto his lap, and Alex flattened her wings so she could sit comfortably against his chest. It vibrated slightly in a purr, pleased at her actions, and his chin rested comfortably on her shoulder. "I'm sorry." The murmured apology came as a surprise, and Alex's grace pressed up against his. The archangel heaved a dramatic sigh, settling further down into the throne. "You're still mad at me, aren't you?"

One arm settled across her waist, keeping her close, while the other leaned on the armrest, his blunt nails clicking against the metal as he awaited her answer. "Course I am." Alex huffed. "I was handling things, and you had no business just — just showing up and killing people!"

His grace moved her in a blink of an eye, and Alex's head snapped back to find herself face-to-face with Lucifer. "Perhaps," came the cryptic agreement, and the hand that had been around her waist moved up to dance along her jawline. "But you had me worried, and I'm not responsible for my actions when I'm concerned for your safety."

His face darkened as he spoke, and Alex curled her wings forward, raising her own hand to cautiously cup one of his cheeks. "What's wrong?" She pressed her grace against him, frowning at the anger hidden behind his eyes. "You're acting so differently from when you were in my dreams. You feel … angry. Mad."

"I am mad," came the quiet reply, and Alex felt her face flush red with embarrassment before she even realized she had no idea of what had caused his frustrations. Her eyes flickered down, unable to hold his gaze. "Yes, at you," he added, answering her unasked question, and Alex's wings drew in close.

His knuckles stroked her cheek, and Alex's fingers fell down to toy with one of the buttons of his coat, caught off guard by the sudden wave of shame that overtook her at his admission. "I …" Her wings twitched, confused, and she chanced a look upwards into his face. "What did I do?" She watched as Lucifer's jaw clenched, and she tugged sharply on the large tan button as the embarrassment faded, replaced with irritation. "It's about Cas, isn't it? Come on, Luce, _really_?"

"Don't." The quiet word had Alex pulling her anger in, settling back upon his knees with a sulking frown. "I always knew that we would end up here. I don't have to be _God_ to know that. Castiel always leaves, or he dies, or he hides away, and time after time, he leaves you with me." His crimson wings folded forward, and his hand dropped down to her chin, one finger slipping under it to trace the thin scar that sat there. "Do you remember what happened last time he left? You were so distressed, you tried to kill yourself."

"I was in a bad place —"

"And he _knew_ that. And he knows about this." He tapped the scar again before he pulled his hand away. "But he left you again, and here we are."

"He did it because you can beat the Darkness —" Alex cut off when Lucifer placed a finger against her lips, a gentle, cold pressure that had her falling silent.

The archangel didn't speak immediately, his blue eyes narrowed as he thought, and as the silence lengthened, Alex's feathers rustled impatiently. "When I was in the Cage," he began, "— the second time — it was almost worse than the first. The heat, the emptiness, the solidarity. The plunge back down to drown underwater is always _so much worse_ after you're allowed to come up for air." He paused for emphasis, but the analogy was lost on Alex, who merely shrugged. "Sure, I wasn't alone, but prison life didn't exactly agree with Michael. He just spent his time in the corner. And I had Sam for a bit, but Sam … Sam's so _boring_. You break him once, and then it's just the same dog and pony show over and over again. But you …" Lucifer's wings curled around her, brushing down her back. "You were my air. _Li gipah_."

 _My breath_. Alex's wings flittered at the Enochian, and she reached out to steady herself on Lucifer's chest as she adjusted, placing her knees on either side of his hips. "I'm sorry," she started, "but I don't see how —"

"Do you feel this?" Lucifer's grace rose within her, curled against her own, and Alex nodded. " _This_ wasn't supposed to happen. My grace resided in you, some way, somehow, and even after it was broken by Castiel, it still returned. It's a part of you."

"I know," Alex admitted after a moment. "When it wasn't there, I didn't feel …" She cut off with a strong shake of her head, her eyes snapping back up onto Lucifer. "I chose Castiel for a reason."

Lucifer scoffed. "You _chose_ him because he chose you first. Because he made you into what you are, and you couldn't imagine what it would be like without him." He shifted in his seat, and Alex's fingers dug into his coat to steady herself. "Call me what you want, but you can't deny that I was always the one there when you needed me. You could always come back to me. I kept you sane, kept you safe, all while Castiel pulled you in circles."

"He was doing the best that he could. And … I loved him." Alex shifted closer, and she watched how some of Lucifer's stiffness softened at the past tense, and even Alex gave pause. _Loved him. Not love_. "H-How much do you know?"

"Everything." Lucifer's eyes glinted. "What happened? You were so confident that you'd get your storybook ending if only the big, bad devil would get out of your head." His fingers brushed across her neck, his grace sparking against her, and Alex felt her grace rise up against her will, glowing blue beneath the skin where her bond with Castiel rested. Lucifer's face darkened, and when Alex knocked away his hand, the anger faded. "But all you learned was that Castiel is a pushover. Sort of became a … wet, lumpy sock, you know?"

"He's had a … difficult past couple of months."

"So that's what they're calling it these days." Lucifer's hands dropped to her hips, his cold fingers slipping under her shirt to rest on her smooth skin. "I think you bring out the worst in him, and him in you."

Alex scowled, and her broken wings flittered angrily at the implications. "And you're suggesting that the solution to all of that is that I just abandon him and run off with the devil instead," she muttered, wrapping her fingers around his wrists before his hands could stray further south.

"I'm just saying … give me a chance. I can be a good guy, too." Alex scoffed, and Lucifer pouted. "Come on. The apocalypse — that was so 2010. I'm moving on to bigger and better things." His hand moved once again, drifting up her arm to press cold fingers against her cheek. "Just come back to me. After so long, it's almost easy, isn't it?" Alex hummed, and the fingers fell away. "Let me show you what I can do."

He leaned forward, his chin tilted up so his lips hovered just in front of hers, and Alex's broken wings trembled in anticipation. "Fine," she breathed, and she felt his lips vibrated as the archangel hummed in pleasure.

Her phone rang, startling her out of the intimate moment, and Alex would have fallen backwards if Lucifer hadn't caught her, the epitome of calm composure. "S-Sorry." Alex fumbled to grab her phone, scowling down at the name that flashed across the screen. "I — I gotta take this."

"Hurry back." Lucifer's wings fell away to let her up, and Alex scrambled to her feet to rush to the other side of the room.

"Uh, hey, Jody." She paused in the corner, her wings drawn in tight as she answered the phone. "Is everything okay? I thought Sam and Dean were headed your way."

"Hello to you, too," Jody Mills teased. "Yeah, they actually just left. Sorry to hear you weren't able to make it up." Alex heard a door click shut in the background, and she cast a glance towards Lucifer as she grunted out an apology. "I sent some leftover ribs home with the boys, though, in case you got hungry. Nothing beats a home cooked meal."

"I can't wait," Alex promised absent-mindedly; Lucifer's eyes were traversing the room, seemingly uninterested in her conversation, but she could feel that his grace was taut with curiosity. "I'm just hoping that Dean doesn't eat them all before they get back."

She was rewarded with a laugh that quickly died away. "I hope this isn't a bad time," Jody began. "Sam mentioned you were disappointed that you couldn't make it up, so I just wanted to call and check in, see if there's anything you might need."

"No, no, I'm actually fine." Alex pressed her back up against the stone wall, her wings spread out against the cold stone; the action drew Lucifer's attention, and she turned her head away so he couldn't see her lips move. "Everything okay with Claire? Sam mentioned something about …"

She trailed off, unsure how to finish, and Jody heaved a sigh. "Yeah, she's been seeing cases where they aren't," she admitted. "Although, this time there actually was something. Some vampires came back for Alex — Annie," she corrected, and Alex hummed in understanding. "My Alex." Jody sighed again, and her voice dropped in defeat. "I thought … I thought that by taking Claire in, maybe I could help her, but she's dead set on hunting."

"Yup," Alex distantly agreed. "It's hard to talk to kids …" Her words died in her throat as Lucifer rose to his feet.

Her hesitation was misinterpreted as disinterest. "I'm sorry, I'm boring you. Uh, Sam told me that you and Cas were back together," Jody said. "I know you guys were having a rough patch, but I'm glad to hear you're working through it." Lucifer crossed the room, his crimson wings hanging casually at his side, and Alex's own wings fell down, inviting him forward. "Listen," she distantly heard Jody say, "just make sure that he's treating you right, alright?"

Guilt flashed through Alex, hot and sharp, and she dropped her eyes onto the ground. "Alright," she agreed, careful to keep her voice under control as Lucifer sniggered. "T-Thanks, Jody. I'll let him know." She felt Lucifer's grace snake out to hang up the phone, and she reached back to tuck it into her pocket as the archangel stepped close. "Sorry," she muttered. "Work stuff."

"Sounds boring." Lucifer grabbed her waist, pulling her close, and Alex wrapped her arms around his neck. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, eyes closing as she felt his wings curl around her. His lips pressed up against her temple, a laugh vibrating through him. "We've got better things to do."


	35. Love Hurts

**January 15th, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **M** etallica thrummed through Alex's earbuds, pulsing against her grace. Her wings lay sprawled out across the bed, dragging against the soft comforter as she tapped her fingers in time with the beat. She could feel Sam and Dean, resting quietly in the library far away from her room, and she rolled over onto her stomach with a frustrated huff. She had returned to Kansas sometime last night — all of Jody's homemade ribs were gone, no surprise there — to find Sam asleep in his bedroom and Dean and the Impala gone; but now Sam was up, and Dean was back, apparently.

With a sigh, Alex pushed herself up so her back was resting up against the headboard as she pulled her laptop into her lap. Maybe she should get up and go find the brothers; she had been cooped up in her room long enough.

Lucifer's grace stirred within her, and Alex's eyes snapped upwards in time to see the archangel land in the corner, his crimson wings pulling in tight. "Fuck, Luce —" She dropped her voice into a whisper as she yanked her earbuds out from her ears. "You can't — you can't just show up when Sam and Dean are around"

"Don't worry." Lucifer closed the bedroom door, and Alex shut her laptop with a frown as she watched the archangel toss his trench coat over the back of a chair. "If they ask, just say I slipped in the back." The bed dipped as he sat down upon it, and Alex drew her knees up to her chest, wings folding in to make room for him.

"What are you doing? Here," she rushed to add when Lucifer grinned. "What are you doing here?"

"Hell's boring." Crimson wings pushed Lucifer towards her, and Alex's skull collided with the headboard as he slotted himself between her folded legs, his hands planted on either side of her hips. One hand shot out, slipping between her head and wall to sooth the bump, and Alex swallowed back a scowl. "But you … you're far more interesting."

"Damn straight I am." Alex pulled the archangel closer, fingers digging into the collar of his shirt as she pressed her lips up against his. Lucifer hummed, and his wings folded forward as her hands moved upwards, dancing across his skin. She recognized every dip, every muscle, every curve of his lips, but it was cold. It was so cold, and it exuded confidence with every pulse. It was Castiel, but at the same time, it was everything Cas wasn't.

The door swung open, and Alex's head recoiled at the sound; had it not been for Lucifer's hand, it would have crashed back into the headboard again. "Oh, God." Sam's strangled surprise came from the doorway, the sight of him blocked by Lucifer's chest. "Sorry, I, uh —"

Alex shoved at Lucifer's shoulders, but the archangel moved back at his own, slow pace. "Hello, Sam," he greeted, his voice dropping low, and Alex slipped off of the bed with a scowl in his direction.

"I, uh, hey," came the stuttered response. "I — I didn't know that you were here. S-Sorry." He cleared his throat to regain his composure, and hazel eyes slid past the archangel in search of Alex. "I just — I think we found a case if you're interested, but …"

"Yeah, I'm interested." Alex yanked her earbuds out of her phone's aux jack, hastily tossing them onto the nightstand. "Can you give us a minute? I'll meet you in the library."

"Sounds good." Sam fumbled for the doorknob, his lips pursed tightly as he glanced between the two of them. "Just, uh … lock the door next time, okay?"

The door closed, and Alex spun around to face Lucifer, scowling at the amusement that had appeared on his face. "Yeah, _Cas_ ," she hissed. "Lock the door next time! What the hell was that?"

"What do you mean?" Lucifer's face lost all expression, his voice rumbling in his chest, but the facade disappeared almost immediately. "Oh, come on. Think of it this way." He circled around her, his fingers dancing playfully across her shoulder, and Alex shrugged them off with a huff. "We need to keep up pretenses, and what better way to do it than —"

He cut off with a grunt when Alex threw her elbow back into his stomach, and the world spun as he twisted her. Her back collided with the closed door, pinned there by Lucifer's body, and Alex turned her head to avoid his gaze. "Don't hit me," he warned, and he stepped away with a shake of his wings.

Alex smoothed down her shirt with a tight-lipped frown. "You let me punch you before," she muttered. "Once."

"Once," Lucifer agreed. He reached out, tugging her closer and spinning her around so her back was pressed flat against his chest. His grace rose up against hers, feeling along her neck, and Alex pushed it away before it could reach her bond. "It's funny, isn't it?" His grace persisted, and Alex hissed as her grace rose up to glow against her skin. "How we need something so … human … to procreate."

"Yeah, well, blame your brothers for that one," Alex muttered. "They're the ones who made me this way." She slipped out of Lucifer's hold, her fingers lingering on his wrist for a moment longer. "Come on," she begrudgingly decided. "I'm sure Dean's gonna want to see you — Cas," she quickly corrected. "Just keep it together, okay?"

Her request was met with a grin, and she shrugged on a sweatshirt as she stepped out into the hall. Lucifer followed a second later, his trench coat already pulled on over his suit, and crimson wings brushed against her feathers, broken and small.

Dean was bent over the library table, his back to them as he paged through a book, and Alex announced her presence by clearing her throat. "Hey," she greeted, her nose wrinkling as she jumped up the library stairs.

"Hey, love birds," Dean teased, and Alex frowned at how his green eyes lit up at the sight of them.

She could feel Lucifer's amusement through his grace, and she defensively shoved her hands into the pocket of her jeans. "Speaking of," she retorted, nostrils flaring as she scented the air, "you smell like sex. Where the hell were you last night?"

Dean's humor faded, and he tugged on the hem of his shirt to take a sniff. "I just showered," he defended with a glance over at his brother. The look necessitated him turning his head, revealing a dark hickey on the side of his neck.

"Yeah, well you should to it again." Alex's turned her eyes onto Sam in time to see him shrug, and the younger Winchester held her gaze as he tapped on his own neck, a silent signal in case the angel hadn't seen the bruise herself. "The hell did you sleep with, man? A werewolf? Look at the size of that thing."

"I can't help it that I'm a helpless romantic." Dean tugged the collar of his shirt upwards and dropped down into chair next to his brother. "And this isn't about me," he added, pointing his finger in Alex's direction. "At least I had the decency to keep it behind closed doors."

Alex jerked her thumb over her shoulder towards Lucifer, passing on the blame, and the archangel blinked. "Sorry," he apologized, his voice a low rumble, and Alex held back a scowl; it was painfully obvious that he was not, in fact, sorry at all.

The lie did not go unnoticed by the brothers. "Oh well, at least you're not fighting anymore." Dean gestured towards Sam, passing on the conversation, and Sam rolled his eyes. Chair legs scraped as Lucifer sat down, and he motioned for Alex to do the same.

Alex did so, diverting her eyes onto Sam to avoid the confused look Dean sent her way. "You said you found a case," she started, and she reluctantly let her gaze flick back onto Dean. "What happened? Is it something to do with Amara?"

"I wish," Dean muttered, and Sam shook his head. "Stacy Altman, a nineteen year old baby-sitter in Ohio was murdered last night," he explained, turning his computer so Alex could see an article entitled _Teenage Girl Dies of a 'Broken Heart.'_ "Her heart was ripped out from her chest."

"Kinda sounds like our kind of thing," Alex begrudgingly agreed. "Alright, I'll come along. When are we leaving?" She glanced over at Lucifer as she spoke, a question in her eyes, and the archangel faintly nodded.

"As soon as we can." Sam closed his laptop and rose to his feet, his chair scraping against the library floor. "Uh, how does ten minutes sound?"

"Make it twenty." Alex pointed a finger towards Dean. "Shower again for me, okay? I don't want to spend the whole car ride smelling you." Dean lifted an arm to sniff at his armpit with a low grumble, and Alex jumped up, all but pulling Lucifer up with her. "Come on, I'm sure you've got places to be. I'll walk you to your car."

Lucifer followed her out of the library, silent until they started up the stairs. "My car?" he finally said. "You know, I gotta say that I'm flattered how you lie to them for me."

"Yup." Alex led the way towards the garage. "What were you expecting me to do? You'd got my mate hostage or something," she muttered.

Lucifer laughed, amused by her excuse. "Castiel is safe for as long as I'm in here," he promised, and his grace snapped out to close the door behind him. "And you know what? I'm hurt you would even suggest that. Castiel consented to this —" he motioned down to the vessel he wore, "— and that took a lot of trust in me, you know? You could at least do the same."

"You want to talk about trust?" Despite herself, Alex couldn't keep the anger in her voice. "I think I'm the one person on this planet who trusts you the most."

"I know." Lucifer pulled her close, and his wings curled tightly around her. "That's what makes you my favorite."

His cold breath chilled her lips, and Alex accepted a quick kiss before she pulled away. "It makes me insane." Her grace snaked out, feeling for the Winchesters, and she leaned back in for one more kiss before she flicked her wings. "Alright, you better get out of here. Love y —" The instinctual dismissal came out before she could catch herself, and Alex dug her teeth into her lips as Lucifer grinned. "I — that's what — Cas — for fuck's sake. Just get out of here, Lucifer."

...

 **Hudson, Ohio**

 **A** lex followed Sam and Dean out of the Impala, pausing on the cold driveway to adjust the black tie that hung around her neck as she looked around. "Stop that," Sam chastised, catching her by the arm, and Alex rolled back her shoulders as the Winchester grabbed her tie, tightening and straightening it until the knot rested just below the collar of her shirt. "And stop squirming," he added. "You're the one who insisted on wearing a tie."

"Because I didn't have a clean shirt to wear otherwise," Alex retorted, and she knocked Sam's hand away. "I look fine. No one's going to pay any attention to how straight my tie is once they see this." She tapped her blind eye, and she slipped away from Sam before he could grab her again. A white forensics van sat in the driveway of the suburban home before them, and Alex watched two men carry out a plastic-wrapped, blood stained carpet from the front door. "Who are these people again?"

"Dan and Melissa Harper." Dean answered for his brother. "Come on, let's see if we can get in before they take everything away." He dug around in his pocket for his identification as he led the way up to the house, and Alex fumbled for her own, checking to make sure that it was the one she wanted before following.

"Hey," she heard Dean greet, and she turned her attention to the cop that stood guard at the door. "Agents Weller and Betts, and Special Agent Kenning. We're hear about Stacy Altman's murder." He held up his badge, and Alex did the same, her chin lifted in face of how the young cop's gaze lingered on her eye. As the silence lengthened, Dean cleared his throat. "Do you mind?"

The cop blinked, snapped out of his thoughts by Dean's sharp tone, and he let them through with a muttered apology. Alex swept by him, her wings flicking to hide her embarrassment. Sam's fingers brushed across her shoulder, a quick gesturing in passing as he moved to walk beside his brother.

Alex let her grace flick out, feeling around the home. Not including them, there were five human souls — six, Alex corrected after a moment. Two of them were distressed. "Straight ahead," she murmured, nodding down the hall. "I think that's them."

Two people sat in the living room; at their arrival, one jumped up, his eyes wide; the woman rose more slowly, her face tight with worry until Dean showed his badge. "Dan and Melissa Harper?" he guessed, and when the two nodded, he tucked ID into his pocket. "We're with the FBI. We just want to ask you a few questions."

Dan shifted nervously, his dark eyes flickering across the three of them, but Melissa only nodded again. "We've already talked to the police," she told them. "What else do you need?"

"It's a separate investigation," Alex explained, and two set of eyes turned onto her. "Which means we just have to go over the facts one more time." She stepped aside as Dan moved past her, her wings rising in confusion, but the man simply stopped in the doorway, leaning his shoulder up against the wall as he sighed.

"It's like we told the cops," he began, his eyes turned towards where the hazmat team was working in the back room. "Stacy came over around six o'clock. We went to dinner, and by the time we got home …"

"We found Stacy in the living room, in a pool of blood," Melissa finished, cutting into her husband's explanation, and she settled back down into her chair. "Tegan in was in her crib, hysterical. It was awful."

Her voice cracked, tinged with fear and despair, but Alex's eyes didn't leave Dan, her grace prickling at the sorrow that seemed to ooze from his very soul. "Can you think of any reason someone would want to hurt Stacy?" she heard Dean ask, and her head tilted as Dan flinched; was it at Dean's question, or at the bloodstained pillows that were being carried past?

"No," Melissa answered, and Alex finally turned her attention back onto her. "Stacy was super sweet and popular and pretty and … "

She trailed off, her hands falling into her lap, and Dan turned back to face Sam and Dean. "Anyone who met her fell in love with her," he finished.

Silence followed his words, and Alex couldn't help but hum curiously at his words. "Maybe it was a crime of passion," Dean suggested after a second. "Stacy have any crazy ex-boyfriends?"

Melissa's face darkened in thought, and her fingers toyed with the kleenex in her hands. "Not that I know of," she finally admitted, and she turned her eyes up onto her husband. "Honey?"

Dan's head recoiled, surprised to find the question turned onto him. "Why would I have any idea?" he snapped, and Alex exchanged a quick look with Sam at the sharpness in his voice.

"Was anything stolen?" she quickly asked, and Dan's lips pursed as he turned to look at her. "Any chance that maybe this was just a robbery that went wrong?" She let her good eye move across the room, taking in the neatly arranged shelves, but everything looked neat and orderly.

"I don't think so." Melissa confirmed her suspicions. "I mean, nothing was missing — except for the nanny cam," she added after a moment, glancing back over her shoulder, and Alex followed her gaze past Dan, who had turned back to watch the men work in the living room.

They had started taking apart the bloodstained couch; Alex momentarily let her attention waver onto them, and the next thing she knew, Sam was clearing his throat. "Thanks for your time. Give us a call if something comes up." Sam led the way out of the room, his shoulder brushing against Alex to signal that she should follow, and the young angel trailed after him, shaking out her wings as she followed him out of the house. "Is it just me," he began once he stepped onto the lawn, "or is that gut acting a bit hinky?"

"There was definitely something going on," Alex agreed, and she glanced back at Dean for confirmation. "I mean, the wife was sad, but he … he was grieving. And way too quick to answer sometimes," she added.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "It's probably best that we split up. Dean, you can drop us off at the morgue and hit Dan at the office."

"Sure. Maybe he'll be a little more open without his wifey around." Dean dug the Impala's keys out of his pocket. "Alright, point me to where I'm going." He climbed into the front seat, and, with one last glance back towards the house, Alex slid into the back.

...

 **T** he county morgue was located in the middle of town, tucked behind the white stone hospital. Alex followed Sam in through the front door, glancing over her shoulder to watch the Impala speed off down the road. "I thought Dean was still all gung-ho about finding Amara," she started as they stepped into the heated atrium. "Why was he so intent on working this case?"

"Because Amara's in the wind, and we have absolutely nothing that can even slow her down." Sam held open the door for her, and he followed her into the waiting room. "And Amara or not, this is a genuine case. Hello," he added, lifting his voice as he addressed the woman at the desk in front of them. "My name is Agent Betts, this is Agent Kenning. We have an appointment with Dr. Carew about the Altman murder investigation."

"Is that them?" A woman stuck her head out the door, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Sam and Alex. "Agents. Thanks for coming in. This one … it's nothing quite like I've ever seen before."

She waved them after her as she started down the hall, and Sam and Alex exchanged a look before they followed. "Well, that's why we're here," Sam promised. "We talked with the Harpers, but they don't know who could have done this."

"We're hoping that the body might shed some clues onto the killer," Alex added, lengthening her stride to walk at Sam's side. "Have your prelims found anything?"

"Not yet, but …" Dr. Carew led the way into the morgue, motioning towards a sheet-covered body that lay on the center table. "Based on the autopsy, the vic was conscious when her heart was ripped out. Wouldn't want a front row seat to that show." She pulled back the sheet to reveal Stacy Altman's body, and Alex moved away from Sam to circle around the table.

"Can I …?" She pointed towards the box of gloves that sat on the tray next to her, and when Dr. Carew nodded, Alex pulled two free and slipped them on over her hands. "Any idea what could have done this?" She probed at the corpse's chest where a large hole stretched out towards the back; if she peered through, she could see straight through to the other side.

"Well, I'd typically assume animal attack," the medical examiner began, and Alex cocked her head.

Her eyes met Sam's, and the Winchester frowned. "In the house?" he asked.

"Exactly." The woman sighed, shaking her head in defeat. "Plus, no claw marks. I'll be honest with you, agents. Been doing this for some twenty odd years, and I'm stumped."

Alex felt along the edge of the hole, frowning at how small it was — even as slender as her arm was, she would have difficulty fitting it through without brushing up against the sides. "Can I?" she heard Sam ask, and she looked up to watch the hunter take a picture of the wound. "Thanks."

"Thank you," Alex repeated, pulling off her latex gloves and tossing them towards the trash. "Here." She dug one of her business cards out of her pocket and handed it to the medical examiner. "If anything comes up — if you find anything weird at all — give us a call."

She followed Sam out of the room, shaking out her wings as they stepped into the hall. "Well?" Sam muttered the question as they passed the reception desk. "Does that seem like a werewolf to you?"

"Well, the heart was definitely gone." Alex stepped out of the building, suppressing a shiver at the winter's cold. "But werewolves typically kill their vics before they go for the heart, and they're usually pretty damn messy about it. This … this was too clean." She curled her wings tightly around her, but, seeing how Sam shivered, stretched one out to rest against his shoulder.

"Yeah," Sam reluctantly agreed. "It does seem a bit out of character. But … have you ever seen anything like that before?"

"Once." The word died in Alex's throat, and she stifled a shiver — this one not from the cold. "Okay, I … at the Elysian Fields Motel, when … when Lucifer killed Baldur. It looks just like that." She glanced up at Sam out of the corner of her eye, tugging nervously on Lucifer's grace as she stopped herself from insisting that _obviously Lucifer wasn't to blame._

She felt Sam's surprise. "So you think it was another angel?"

"No, I don't. It just reminded me of that. Like someone just stuck their arm through her." Alex shoved her hands deep inside her pockets as she looked up and down the street. "So what's the plan, Sam? It's too cold to wait around for Dean to come pick us up."

"The motel's not too far from here." Sam started across the street, and Alex hurried after him, wings raised to shield them from the biting wind as best as her broken vanes could. "You know, earlier … that's the first time I've seen Cas since Hell. He's looking good."

Alex felt her face turn red, and she turned her eyes down the street away from Sam. "He's doing great," she lied, lifting her voice above the wind. "I think he's starting to finally get back to his old self. His old old self," she corrected. "Before the fall."

She jumped up onto the sidewalk, shaking out her wings as she looked around, unsure which way to go. Sam turned left, and Alex followed. "Hey, did you end up finding Crowley?" he asked after a moment. "He hasn't been returning our calls."

"C-Crowley?" The name caught in her throat, and Alex disguised it with a cough. "Crowley?" she repeated. "No, I couldn't get a hold of him. He hasn't contacted me about anything, but then again, I'm not exactly kept up-to-date on his whereabouts." She kicked at a discarded plastic cup, and it skittered off towards a green trash can. "I can check up on him after we finish this case," she suggested. "Maybe he's just too preoccupied with Rowena to call back."

"Might be a good idea," Sam reluctantly admitted, and after a moment of silence, he heaved a sigh. "Look, I'm sorry that I dragged you to hell with Lucifer. I know … I know that wasn't easy for you, seeing him again and all."

"It wasn't something I ever thought I'd do again," Alex agreed. "But, I don't know …" She pulled on Lucifer's grace, seeking its comfort as she searched for words that weren't necessarily a lie. "I'm just glad with how it all worked out. And I'm glad that you're okay." The motel appeared as they rounded the corner, its neon sign glowing in the darkening sky, and Alex quickened her step to reach their room. "If Lucifer did get out," she hesitantly added, "do you really think he could have stopped the Darkness?"

"I don't know." Sam dug around in his pocket for the keys, but Alex's grace snuck out to unlock the motel door before they reached it. It swung open, and Alex hurried through, shaking out her wings as she stepped into the warm room. "He could have done it," he admitted, tossing his keys onto the table, "but Dean's right. Having him and Amara out at the same time … that's more than we can cope with."

Alex's eyes turned across the room, and she let humor warm her voice, thankful for the opportunity to change the subject. "Do you think we could have gotten a less ugly room?" she asked, taking a moment to let her attention rest on the interstate-themed wallpaper. "I feel like I'm stepping back into the fifties."

Sam huffed in amusement. "Hey, the fifties was a good decade," he defended, and he tossed his suit coat and tie onto the nearest bed. "Poodle skirts, _Leave it to Beaver_ …"

"Our table is _diner_ themed." Alex leaned up against the metal table with a roll of her eyes, ripping open her bag to grab her laptop. "Our bedsheets are red, and I haven't seen a couch that ugly in I don't know how long." The red leather couch squeaked as Sam dropped down onto it, and his undid the top button of his shirt as he pulled his laptop onto his lap.

"At least it's clean." Sam patted the couch next to him, and Alex dropped down at his side, bringing her feet up so she could rest her back against Sam's shoulder. She propped her computer up on her knees as she opened up youtube, and she felt Sam turn his head, his hair brushing against hers.

"We should be working," he warned as Alex scrolled through her feed. "Someone is _dead_."

"And nothing's going to change that." Alex stifled a sigh as she continued onto the next page, her eyes flickering across the titles. "Besides, what do you want me to do? We're about as far from a full moon as we could possibly be, and we have no other leads."

Sam moved, bringing his arm up to rest on the back of the couch, and Alex shifted backwards to lean up against him again. "Go back to that one," he said after a moment, and Alex reluctantly scrolled back up to a video entitled _Who's to Blame for the Cold War?_

"Ew no. That's boring." Alex snapped her laptop shut, and she stretched one leg out with a yawn, her head falling back against Sam's chest. "Hey, have you ever heard of a nesnas?"

The door swung open before Sam could answer, and Dean barreled through, slamming the door shut behind him. "Fucking winter," Alex heard him mutter, and she reached out with her grace to lock the door behind him. "Hey. Find anything?"

His eyes lingered on where Alex was tucked into his brother's side, and the angel reluctantly pulled away when Sam lowered his arm. "Yeah, jack." Sam looked down at his laptop with a shake of his head. "Absolutely nothing points to a werewolf."

"Well, step aside, Urkel." From his pocket, Dean produced an SD card, and Sam tilted his laptop upwards so Dean could insert it into the side. "It was Dan that stole the nanny cam."

"Why?" Alex threw her legs over the front of the couch so she could sit up straight, watching as Dean walked away towards the old-style white fridge. Dean glanced over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised, and she looked over at Sam with a frown. "Oh. He was fucking the babysitter. Great." She looked down at the screen as a clip started to play, and her frown deepened.

She recognized the Harper's living room, and she recognized the girl sitting on the couch as Stacy Altman. A dark shadow moved in the background, beyond the white patio doors, and Alex leaned closer to Sam to watch as the doors swung open. A man stepped through, dressed in a suit and tie, and the video zoomed in as Sam clicked at the trackpad. "Wait." He paused the video and looked up at Dean. "I thought Dan was at dinner with Melissa."

Dean grinned as he pulled the cap off of his beer. "That's not Dan," he promised, and his eyes flickered back down towards the laptop as he took a sip.

Alex returned her eyes to the screen as Sam fast forwarded through the video. Stacy turned to face the stranger, the stranger thrust his hand through her chest. Blood. Alex narrowed her eyes as she watched the stranger turn away, and a flash of light caught her eyes. "There." She jammed a finger into the screen; Sam knocked it away a second later.

"Shifter." He paused the clip and went backwards frame-by-frame until the white glint in the stranger's eyes was visible.

"Yahtzee." Dean set his beer down on the table and, now that the video was done, Alex pulled away from Sam, crossing over to the fridge to grab herself a drink. "Now we just need to figure out what it wants."

"And why would it take her heart?" Alex added, her grace flicking the bottle cap off of her beer. "It's not like they eat them or anything. It's a shifter — they're basically human."

"Exactly." Dean scowled as he shrugged off his suit coat. "Who knows why they do anything. It could be love, or maybe Stacy was involved in some shady shit." He slammed down another few gulps of his drink before he shook his head. "Looks like we're calling it a night for now. I saw a bar down the street."

He looked up expectantly, awaiting their decision, and Alex shrugged. "I'll come with," she decided. "It's been a long time since I've been out to drink."

"I think I'm good," Sam decided, opening his laptop with an amused shake of his head. "You guys have fun."

Dean grinned, and Alex shrugged as she retreated to the back of the room, snagging her duffle bag on the way past. "Sounds good to me. Give me a minute to change, and I'll be ready." Her grace locked the bathroom door behind her, and Alex had just started undoing the buttons on her shirt when feathers brushed across her skin. "Fuck!" The strangled cry was muffled by Lucifer's hand, and Alex's grey eye stretched wide as she stared up at the archangel. " _Dude!_ You can't be here!" She yanked his hand away, hissing out the words with a glance back towards the room where the Winchesters lay.

"They won't hear me." Lucifer leaned close to whisper the words in her ear, and Alex's fingers scrabbled to slide the buttons back into place. Her knuckles brushed across Lucifer's chest, and she heard him chuckle. "I won't stay long," he promised.

"Good." Alex scowled as he stepped away, his wings flicking as he lifted her bag up onto the counter. "I need to get changed. I'm going out with Dean," she whispered, and she batted Lucifer's hand away when it reached for the zipper.

The archangel hummed, his blue eyes pausing on the tie around her neck, and Alex pulled it off from her neck and tossed it onto her bag. "Why are you here?" she whispered. "Don't you have things to do with the demons?"

"I have Crowley under control." Lucifer took her chin in his hands, lifting her head up to kiss her, and Alex couldn't help the hum of pleasure that reverberated in her chest. "Come find me when you're done here," he instructed. "I'll be waiting." The archangel disappeared, his wings stirring the air as he flew away, and Alex's eyes fluttered open. Her grace flicked back out towards Sam and Dean, she heaved a heavy sigh as she started unbuttoning her shirt once again.

...

 **T** he bar was loud, and it was packed. Alex sat on the barstool beside Dean, her fingers playing with the corner of her drink's white napkin. "It's been a long time since we've done this," Dean began, his voice lifted above the clamor. "Just you and me doing things normal people do." He lifted his beer in half of a toast before he took a sip, and Alex's fingers moved to grasp her own drink, the condensation slicking the smooth glass.

"It has," she agreed, and her wings drew in close as a drunken man tried to squeeze past her. "We don't get to do this a lot any more — unless you count those months when you were a demon," she teased, and Dean's face darkened at the memory.

"Don't remind me," he muttered, and Alex let her eyes turn across the bar. "Although, I think I'd rather still have the Mark than have Amara loose like she is."

"No, you wouldn't." Alex's wings flicked as she spoke, and she peeled her rum and coke off of the napkin. "Amara is something that we can deal with — you and the Mark, that was a whole different horror show."

She took a sip as Dean scoffed. "You want to talk about horror?" he said, his voice taking on a faux-humorous tone. "Crowley had you on a tight fucking leash back then." The humor died, and Alex dropped her eyes onto the thin layer of liquid that sat at the bottom of her glass. "Look, Sam's been looking to break your deal," he promised. "I know that Cas has tried everything in the books, but there's always an answer, and we'll find it."

"Don't worry about it." Guilt pulsed through Alex, and her grace dug down to feel where Crowley's deal had used to sit; Lucifer's grace occupied the space now. "Castiel … he found something to buy me more time," she lied. "Amara is the big fish right now, and we should be focusing on putting her back into her box."

"Maybe," Dean relented, and he tapped the glass base of his bottle against the lacquered wood. "But you're family, and I'll be damned if we're letting Crowley get his hands on you."

Alex snorted into her drink as she swallowed down the last mouthful. "Thanks, Dean, but don't worry. Crowley's not going to get his hands on me, not if L — Castiel has anything to say about it." She cast the Winchester a glance out of the side of her eye, watching to see if he noticed her slip, but Dean didn't spare her a look.

Hands grabbed her shoulder, and Alex jumped, a curse falling from her lips as she spun around. "Hey." Sam stood there, dressed back in his suit and tie, and Alex exchanged a look with Dean, her grey eye narrowed in confusion. "We need to go."

"What happened?" Alex pushed her empty glass away, swiveling on the bar stool to face the Winchester more fully. "Another body?" She looked down at her phone to check the time; she and Dean had been away for little more than an hour.

"Yeah. It's Dan." Sam dug his wallet out of his pocket to drop a couple of twenties down onto the counter, nodding curtly at the bartender. "We need to go talk to Melissa."

"Wait." Dean grabbed his brother's arm, his lips pursed in a small frown. "We should go check out the body." The man in the stool next to Dean stood up to go, and the Winchester moved over to Sam could sit in between them.

"Already did that. His heart was ripped out — same MO." Sam dropped down into his seat with a small shake of his head. "And I spoke with Dan's secretary, who was the last person to see Dan alive. She identified the person who killed him — take a guess. It was Stacy," he explained when Dean only shrugged.

"Great." Dean tipped his beer back to take the last mouthful. "So we're dealing with a shifter who's upping its game by impersonating dead people." He set the bottle down with a shake of his head. "My bet's on the wife."

"It's not her." Alex flicked her grace out to emphasize her words, and two sets of eyes turned onto her. "I can tell," she promised. "She's human. Why'd you go without us?" she asked of Sam. "We could have gone with you."

Sam shrugged. "You didn't answer your phone. Plus, I thought I'd save you the trouble."

Dean leaned forward to glance over at Alex, one eyebrow raised, and Alex met the look with a small grin. "Great, thanks, Sam. Take the dead body and leave talking to the wife to us." She pushed herself off of her bar stool, going to shake out her wings, but they drew back in as a man brushed shoulders with her. "Okay, let's go."

Dean followed her lead, sliding off his stool, and Alex reached out to catch his arm. Her grace rushed through him, scrubbing the alcohol from his blood. "Thanks," Dean muttered, barely audible over the clamor of the bar. "Come on, the house isn't far from here." He held out his hand towards Sam, fingers crooking, but when Sam hesitated, he frowned. "Sam. Keys."

Sam just scoffed. "Dude, how much have you had to drink?" His hands went into his pockets, pulling out the car keys, but they stayed firmly hidden in his fist.

"He's fine to drive," Alex promised, and she tugged on the hem of her jacket. "We should probably swing by the motel and change, though," she added over to the eldest Winchester. "Lead the way."

...

 **A** lex followed Sam and Dean into the Harper's household, her grace stretching out to search the rooms. Grief hung thick in the air, and Alex instinctively reached out to lock the door behind them. "We're sorry for your loss," she began, but her words sounded too formal, too hollow to sate the sorrow that permeated the walls. Even the rooms felt dark, the fluorescent lights unable to fight back the night that spilled in through the large glass windows.

Melissa led the way into the kitchen, defeat pulling her down with every step. "I just can't … I can't even believe it." She dropped down into one of the kitchen chairs, her head falling into her hands. "How is this even possible?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Sam promised. His suit and tie were now hidden beneath his black topcoat buttoned tight to keep out the winter's cold, and Alex self-consciously tugged on the sleeves of her thin blazer. Her tie hung loosely around her neck, hastily thrown on while scrambling to change back into her work clothes, but Melissa hadn't appeared to notice the informality.

"Where's the baby?" Dean asked, and Alex turned her attention away from her clothes to flick her grace upstairs.

"She's … she's with my mom," Melissa admitted.

The brothers exchanged a quick look, and Sam finally cleared his throat. "I, uh … I hate to have to ask this, but I need to ask you a difficult question." He paused, waiting for Melissa to nod before he spoke again, the only sign of his nervousness evident in how his fingers toyed with the sleeve of his coat. "Were you aware that your husband was having an affair with your babysitter?"

"Yes." Melissa lifted her head from her hands with a heavy sigh. "I knew. I know what you're thinking — jealous wife kills her cheating husband, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I _loved_ Dan. I still do." She looked between Sam and Dean, her eyes wide. "It may sound pathetic, but I thought we still had a chance."

Tears shone in the corners of her eyes, and Alex stepped forward to speak. "We won't take up much more of your time," she promised. "I'm sure the last thing you want at a time like this is the FBI asking around."

"Before we go," Dean added, reaching into his suit pocket, "would you mind writing down a phone number where we can get a hold of you in case we have any more questions?" From one pocket, he produced one of his business cards; from the other, an engraved silver pen.

"Sure." Melissa took both, holding the silver pen firmly in her hand, and Alex chanced a smug look up at both of the brothers as the woman scrawled down her number. _Told you._

Melissa handed the card and pen back to Dean, and Sam set a second card down on the table next to her. "And if anything strange or out of the ordinary comes up, don't hesitate to call. We're staying at the motel on Main Street."

Melissa nodded, and Sam led the way back out of the house. Alex shut the door behind her, locking it and, with one last glance back towards the house, she hurried after the brothers. "So, Melissa's not the shifter," she began, unable to hold back the grin. "Imagine that."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean rolled his eyes, his exasperation hidden by the darkness that clung to the air around them. "That just means we're back to square zero. I don't know about you guys, but I think I need a beer, regroup, maybe get lucky."

"You just came from the bar," Sam reminded. "And didn't you just get lucky?"

Dean scoffed. "That was in Kansas. And thanks to Alex, I'm as sober as I've ever been — probably more," he added after a second's thought. "What do you say? You with me? Ready to scrape a few hearts off the barroom floor?"

"No thanks." Sam circled around to his side of the car with a shake of his head. "I think I'll pass. I'm gonna go hit the lore, but you go be you."

Alex felt Dean's eyes turn onto her, and she pulled open the back passenger door before she looked at him over the top of the car. "I think I'll pass on this one, too. You got your free pass for the night, go get hammered again. We won't wait up." She stuck one foot into the car before she paused, her eyes turning back towards the house. "Hey … should we be worried that something's going to come after her next? That seems like the next logical thing to happen."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, hesitation flickering across their faces. "Are you volunteering for a stakeout?" Dean finally asked. "Cause I'll be honest, I wasn't planning on sticking around."

Sam's lips pursed, but before he could respond, Alex stepped out of the car and closed the door behind her. "Yeah, I'll stay. You two go on back to the motel to look into lore and … get fucked."

"Are you sure?" Sam's eyes turned upwards as the first snowflakes began to fall. "It's the middle of January, Pip. You can't just stand out here all night."

"I can, and I will." Alex waved them into the Impala with a flick of her wings. "The cold doesn't bother me, and what's a little snow? There's no point in making you guys sit out here all night when it only takes one of us to watch the house." She stepped back up onto the sidewalk, and with a shrug, Sam and Dean got in and drove away.

...

 **S** he wasn't sure how long she stood outside; without the sun, it was almost impossible to keep track of time. The snow kept falling, thick white flakes that decorated the lawn. Alex stayed pressed up against the garage, standing on the brick path that led to the backyard. The overhang protected her from the snow and the wind, but the angel kept her broken wings pulled in tightly around her to combat the permeating cold. Lucifer's grace stirred within her, confused at her situation, but Alex kept her quelled, pressed down as she prayed that he wouldn't show up.

There was movement in the house, the first in a long time, and Alex's head lifted, her wing uncurling at the sound. No, that wasn't coming from inside the house. There was someone coming up the path.

Alex's feet carried her around the garage, her grace rising to her eye as she scoured the darkness. A figure was moving through the snow, on a straight trajectory towards the front door, and Alex's feet faltered momentarily as she recognized the angular face. Dan Harper.

Her grace went out to probe the stranger in search of a human soul, but there was nothing there but a sharp, burning fire that raged within its chest. The creature rapped on the front door, unaware of Alex's presence, and from within the house, Alex heard a scream. "Honey, let me in," Dan said, pounding upon the door, and Alex's angel blade slipped down into her hands. "Baby, it's me —"

He cut off when Alex whistled, his eyes darkening at the sight of her. "Melissa, stand back," she warned, raising her voice above the wind. The creature threw itself back at the door, and Alex jumped forward, grabbing onto the collar of its jacket and shoving her blade into its back.

The beast howled, its back arching away from the wound, but the fire inside of its chest didn't die. A hand sailed past her head, barely missing her temple, and Alex yanked her blade free and pulled back on the jacket, sending Dan flying backwards. Her grace simultaneously unlocked the front door so she could rush inside, barely ducking a vase that was thrown at her head. "It's me!" she hissed, slamming the door behind her. "It's me, goddammit!"

"A-Agent Kenning?"

"Name's Alex." Her grace locked the door behind her just as Dan threw himself back up against it, the impact of his shoulder causing the door to quiver. "We need to get out of here. Where's your car?"

"In the garage —" Melissa cut off with a small shriek as Dan punched through the door, the wood splintering beneath the blow.

"Go, get it started and out in the street. I'll be out after you." Alex waved her away, rocking up onto the balls of her feet as Dan felt along the door, his fingers feeling for the lock. She reluctantly stowed her angel blade, pushing down the rush of fear that followed; what was this thing that barely batted an eye against heaven's weapon?

Her grace unlocked the door before retreating to surround her. Dan fell inwards, catching himself on all fours as he snarled. He threw himself forward, and Alex jerked to the side to avoid a fist that flashed past her shoulder. The grace on her blind side sparked, and Alex ducked, barely avoiding a blow that would have cracked her skull.

The car roared to life, and Dan's head snapped towards the sound, giving Alex the opportunity she needed to grab the creature's arm. She stepped forward, pivoting on her foot to place her back up against him; a quick grapple and a yank had the creature falling over her back to land flat on the ground. Alex followed the hip toss by a sharp jab to the ribs with the heel of her foot before she bolted, leaving Dan on the hardwood floor, the breath knocked from his lungs.

A silver sedan sat in the street, the engine roaring and the headlights on, and Alex yanked the door shut behind her, her grace locking it as she rushed down the lawn and jumped into the front seat. "Drive," she hissed, and the car jerked forward as Melissa accelerated down the street.

"What the hell was that thing?" The woman's voice was on the edge of hysteria, but Alex didn't immediately answer, her eyes locked on the rearview mirror to make sure that they weren't being followed.

"I don't know," she finally said as the car rounded the corner, and she let some of the tension leave her wings as she leaned back in her seat. "I've never seen anything quite like that before. Head towards Main Street," she ordered. "Our motel's down that way."

"What is — that was _Dan_." The car swerved as Melissa shuddered. "My husband. How …"

"I'll explain everything once we get to where we're going," Alex promised. "Just keep driving." She gripped the handle on the side of the car as the sedan took the corner too quickly, and her good eye scanned the darkness in search of the Too Tired Motel, her fingers tapping impatiently on the plastic.

"How did you know to be there?" Melissa's voice had lost some of its panic, and Alex felt her eyes turn onto her. "Were you — were you waiting outside?"

"Yeah. You're welcome." The Impala sat in the motel parking lot, the establishment's neon sign reflected in the black paint, and Alex pointed towards the car as Melissa swung the sedan off of the road. "There." She leapt out before the car came to a complete stop, shaking out her wings as she looked around, but they were alone. "This way."

She led the way to the motel door, unlocking it and pushing it open with a single touch, and she stepped aside to let Melissa through first, her wings flittering warily before she followed. Both Winchesters were inside. Sam sat at the table on his laptop; Dean stood behind him, his gun drawn at their sudden entrance. "Everything okay?"

"No." Alex slammed the door shut behind her, locking the deadbolt and sliding the chain lock into place. "We're definitely not dealing with a shifter." She stalked into the room, tossing her angel blade onto the table in passing. "This didn't even slow it down."

"It was Dan," Melissa blurted out. "He tried to kill me. I think …" Her voice wavered, and Alex grabbed her duffle bag off of the bed as the woman added, "I think this may all be my fault."

"Okay, why don't you sit down," Dean suggested, and at the same time Sam asked, "What do you mean this didn't slow it down?"

"I mean I stabbed it, and it lived." Alex dug a pair of jeans from her bag and slung them over her shoulder as Melissa shakily dropped down into the chair across from Sam. "It was a solid hit, too, right to the back." She yanked out a t-shirt and, with a muttered excuse, ducked into the bathroom to change.

"I swear, I really did love Dan," she heard Melissa insist as she closed the door behind her. "Maybe a little too much. I just … I wanted him to love me back. So I got some advice and confided in my hairdresser about the affair."

"Wait, women actually do that?" Dean's scoff was almost inaudible as Alex yank her shirt on over her head and pulled on her jeans. She shook her wings out as she finished, shoving her discarded clothes into the corner of the bathroom before she rejoined the Winchesters.

"— Told me there was a way to get him back," Melissa was saying. "I knew she, uh …dabbled in stuff."

"Great." Alex scowled. "That means we're probably dealing with a witch."

"A white witch," Melissa insisted, and when Alex rolled her eyes, she looked desperately between Sam and Dean. "Listen, I don't usually believe in that kind of stuff, but I was desperate."

Dean shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the bed with a shake of his head. "And let me guess. She gave you a spell."

"Yes. A 'return to love' spell. All I had to do was chant it and seal it with a kiss." Her eyes widened. "I didn't mean for this to happen, I swear. I just wanted my husband back. I — I have a copy of it here." She dug around in her purse and held out a slip of paper towards Sam, and Alex leaned against the back of his chair to read the scrawled letters.

" _Nuwshqto dy mwt_." Alex read the Aramaic title out loud, and she placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, squeezing tightly to reveal her displeasure. "You do realize what that says, right? It's the kiss of death."

Melissa's face paled, but the only outward show of Dean's displeasure came in the form of a thin frown. "What does the lore say?" he asked, and Alex directed her attention down onto Sam.

"There is no lore," the hunter reluctantly admitted, staring at the blank webpage in front of him. "My best guess is that this is the white witch's home cooking." He reached up to touch Alex's hand, and the angel quickly relaxed her grip with a murmured apology.

"Okay, well, how does it spread?" she asked, stepping away to retrieve her old beer bottle from beside the couch; she frowned to find it empty. "I mean, it sounds like it's passed on through kissing —"

"Like a magical STD," Dean joked, and Alex rolled her eyes.

"Sure, Dean. But then how did Stacy get it? Melissa didn't kiss her." She cast the woman a quick glance, a question on her face; judging by Melissa's expression, she was correct. "Do you think Dan passed it onto her? Then why did she die first?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "Maybe you're safe if you can pass the curse on?"

"And then if that person dies, it comes back to you," Dean finished, and Alex flicked her wings in agreement as she crossed over to the sink; sounded like a reasonable possibility.

Sam nodded. "I mean, that would make sense." He closed his laptop with a glance off towards Alex, and Alex echoed his sentiment as she set her beer bottle on the counter. "It would explain why, whatever this thing is, it's working its way back to Melissa."

"Speaking of," Alex added, "We should get moving before that thing gets _here_." She hurried over to the door and peered the peephole, her grace flicking warily. "It can't be far behind —"

The window shattered, and Alex flinched away as a dark shape flung itself through. Sam jumped to his feet, but Dan grabbed his arm and threw him off to the side. Three shots echoed through the room, and Alex flinched away from Dean's gun. "That won't do anything!" she hissed, and she threw herself forward, tackling the creature onto the couch.

"Dean, no!" Sam's shout had Alex whipping her head around in time to watch Dean grab Melissa and kiss her.

That was all she saw before the creature shoved her aside and threw itself at Dean. Alex lunged after him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she tackled him to the ground. "Run!" she got out before Dan had her by the neck, its hot fingers digging into her flesh, and Alex shrieked as her grace rose up in protest.

Lucifer's grace followed suit, exploding out of her chest in a clap of thunder, and then Dan was gone. She spun around to find a hole in the motel wall, and her wings flittered as she searched for the creature.

"Come on." Sam's shout came from the door, and Alex hesitated only a second before she bolted after him. Dean and Melissa were already outside, and Alex stopped beside the Impala, her eyes scanning the darkness around them in search of the creature.

The engine started, and Alex threw herself into the backseat beside Melissa as the Impala lurched off down the street. "Is it gone?" Dean demanded, and Alex tore her eyes away from the street.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't think I killed it, but I think … I think I bought us some time. Just keep driving for a bit." She shifted on the leather seat, her wings drawn in tightly as she glanced over at Melissa before her eyes slid up onto Dean. "Should we talk about this?"

The Impala jerked as Dean slammed on the brakes, and he guided the car off to the side of the road. "Out," he ordered. "Melissa, stay here. We need to talk." He threw open the door and got out, and Alex exchanged a quick look with Sam before she followed. "Look." Dean spoke the moment that Sam closed the door behind him. "It got the target off of her back, okay?"

"Yeah," Sam reluctantly agreed, "but you didn't have to do this. Be the guinea pig, the martyr. Try and carry the weight by yourself."

Dean scowled. "I'm gonna be fine, okay? And as long as I'm good, she's good and that's the important thing. Besides, it proved our theory, didn't it? That this whole kiss of death thing is transmittable. I mean, I'm not asking for the Nobel here, but you're welcome."

"Dean, let me take the curse." Alex pushed herself past Sam, circling around the hood to stand in front of him. "I'm obviously the one who can handle it the best, and if that thing comes after us again, I'm the best prepared to deal with it."

"No." Dean held out his hand to keep her back. Sam frowned, and Dean's voice rose in indignation. "No! Look, we don't know how much time we have — I mean, it's not like this thing is exactly following a pattern. Also, we can confirm that it's not a shifter," he added with a scowl. "I pumped it full of silver and it didn't even flinch."

"What kind of FBI agents are you?" Melissa stepped out of the car, ignoring Alex's thin frown.

"The fake kind," Dean promised, and Sam added, "We're hunters."

"What's important is that we help people like you," Alex finished. "Look, we need to know where to find your witch friend, because she's the only one who knows what this thing is and how to find it."

"I don't know much about her," Melissa admitted. "Her name is Sonja. She's kind of weird. I don't — she's only been my hairdresser for a couple of years. She … she gave me the spell in the basement of her salon," she added at the sight of the Winchester's frowns.

"Great. Then that's where we're going." Alex circled back around to her side of the car, motioning for Melissa to get back inside. Sam and Dean exchanged one last look over the top of the Impala before they followed, and the engine roared to life as Alex slid into the backseat. Lucifer's grace rose up within her, cold against hers, and the angel leaned up against the window as the Impala started off down the road. Maybe it was for the best that Dean had refused to pass on the curse; Alex wasn't sure how the archangel would have reacted, but she was confident it wouldn't have been good.

...

 **T** he darkened salon sat on the corner of the road, nearly hidden by the darkness. Alex shifted in the backseat as the Impala rolled to a stop, and she cast a quick look around at her companions. As always, Sam and Dean were the epitome of calmness, but Melissa's face had paled to the point that it almost glowed. "The Art of Dyeing." Dean read aloud the wooden sign that hung above the door as the engine died. "Well, can't say she didn't warn you."

Alright." Sam turned in his seat, a silver knife in his hands. "Just keep the door locked and stay put until we get back. Unless Sonja shows up," he added, and he held the knife out handle-first. "Then use this on her."

"It won't kill her, but it'll slow her down," Dean finished.

"Are you serious?" Melissa's voice rose, her eyes going wide. "I can't stab anyone!"

"Listen to me." Dean pocketed the keys as he spoke, his voice stern as he turned to face her. "Sonja's not just anyone. She's a wicked witch who offed your husband and tried to kill you, so if she shows up here, you punch her, you stab her, you drop a fucking house on her if you have to."

"We won't be long," Alex added, and she threw open the car door. "No more than fifteen minutes, if we're lucky."

She got out of the Impala, her eyes fixed on the building as she waited for Sam and Dean to join her. She heard the car click as the locks slid down into place, and she fell in step at Sam's side as they crossed the street. The front door opened easily beneath her touch, and Alex let Sam and Dean through first before she took up the rear and closed the door behind them. Sam's flashlight flickered on as he stepped into the room, and Alex felt Dean pause, his eyes turning onto the gun in Sam's hand. "Witch-killing bullets," he explained, and Alex added, "We crafted them for Rowena a while back."

"Huh." Dean's flashlight turned across her face, and Alex resisted from shying away from the brightness. "We gotta think of a better name for that." He moved past Alex to walk further into the shop, and the angel rolled her eyes. Sam walked over to the windows, and Alex turned her attention to the cabinets that lined the far wall.

"You actually think something's going to be up here?" she asked, dragging her fingers across the line of shampoos and dyes. "If we're looking for illegal activities, we should head to the back."

"This way." Dean pried open the door labeled _Employees Only_ , and Alex lifted her grace up to her eye to peer down the staircase. He started down them without a second's hesitation, and Alex glanced over at Sam to make sure that he was following before she hurried after Dean.

Windows lined the top of the walls, letting in the thin moonlight, and Alex pressed her grace throughout the rooms, frowning at the sight of the plastic sheets that hung from the wooden beams across the ceiling. "Locked cabinet," Sam suddenly announced, and she turned to find him crouching beside a wooden desk. He pulled his knife out from his pocket, flipping open the blade, but Alex reached out to stop him before he could wedge the blade into the drawer.

"You'll break that," she warned, and she steadied herself against his shoulder as she leaned down to touch the lock. The drawer opened with a creak, and Alex pulled away to watch Dean flick on an overhead light, bathing the room in a yellow glow.

Sam rifled around through the drawer and, with a grunt of satisfaction, lifted a book up onto the desk. "Alright," he began, flipping through the yellowed pages. "Got it. It looks like we're dealing with a qareen."

"Never heard of it," both Alex and Dean said at the same time, and the angel tipped her head to study the pages in front of her. "What is it, middle eastern?" she added.

"Looks like. It's a creature, corporeal in form," Sam read, his fingers going out to touch the colored post-it notes that held translations from the flowing Arabic script. "A slave to your commands."

"Kind of like a genie," Dean joked from beyond the plastic sheets, and Sam scoffed.

"I guess," he agreed, and his fingers moved down the page. "Here we go. Someone chants a curse, lays a wet one on you, then the victim is seduced and killed by the quareen, but instead of taking the form of Barbara Eden, they present themselves as your deepest, darkest desires."

Dean stepped out from behind the plastic. "Makes sense why the sitter was killed by the husband," he admitted. "And the husband by the sitter."

"Yeah. And why Melissa was attacked by Dan. She really loved him." Sam frowned as Dean laughed, his forehead creasing in confusion. "What?"

"You know the silver lining about being cursed? I'll finally get some face time with Daisy Duke." Dean grinned and, when Sam's confusion only deepened, he expounded, "My deepest darkest desire."

"Seriously?"

"Ever since I was seven."

"So, Bach not Simpson."

"I have _absolutely_ no idea what either of you are talking about." Alex broke into their rapid-fire exchange, her feathers rustling as she shifted her stance. "What does any of that mean?"

"I'll explain later," Sam promised, and Dean simultaneously asked, "So, how do we kill it?"

"Um …" Sam's finger trailed down the page, jumping from post-it to post-it. "By stabbing it in its heart," he finally read, pointing to a note at the bottom of the page.

Alex's eyes drifted up to the picture that sat in the middle of the page, to the black-skinned qareen that held its heart in its hand. "Yeah, that's great and all," she agreed, "but this guy's got a big old hole in his chest were that —" She reached past Sam to touch the heart, "— is supposed to be."

"Well, that's because it's apparently not in him." Sam pointed to the note in the bottom right corner. "The person who holds the qareen's heart is the one who commands it," he paraphrased, and Alex frowned.

"So, Sonja the hairdresser," Dean finished, stating the obvious, and Sam closed the book with a roll of his eyes.

"Alright, let's find us a heart. I'll take upstairs." He picked his gun up off of the desk, but when Dean didn't voice his agreement, he hesitated, looking back towards his brother. Dean held his hands out, one fist resting against the palm of his other. "Seriously?" Sam cocked an eyebrow, but Dean insisted, sticking his hands out further. Sam tucked his gun into his jeans with a shrug.

Dean shook his fist, once, twice, and the Winchesters threw their choice. _Rock._ Both brothers' eyes went wide, Dean's with elation, Sam's with horror. Alex circled around to stand at Sam's side, her wings curling forward in curiosity; she hadn't see tie a round of rock, paper, scissors in … ever, really.

They went again — both threw scissors. Dean leaned forward, his face screwed in concentration, and Alex glanced up to watch Sam shifted nervously. They threw one last time. Rock from Sam. Paper from Dean.

Dean's face lit up in a grin of elation and surprise, and Sam squared his jaw, hazel eyes flickering down to Alex. "Whatever," he muttered as Dean pumped his fist into the air. "I'm going upstairs."

Dean skipped off further into the basement, and Alex, hesitating for only a second, ran off after Sam. "Wait, I thought —" She scrubbed at her temple in confusion as she followed Sam up the stairs. "How … Dean won." Sam's grunt was the only answer she got, and she paused on the top step. "Why didn't he come up here?"

"Hey." Sam turned to face her, and Alex frowned to find that her question was ignored. "Stay down there with Dean, okay? If that qareen comes back, it's going after him."

Alex glanced back down the stairs with a grim shrug. "Sounds like a plan," she agreed. "I'll go check on Melisa before I go back down, make sure that she's not freaking out too much." She waited for Sam to nod before she crossed the building to slip out the front door onto the sidewalk. The Impala sat on the other side of the road, illumined by the streetlight, and Alex glanced up and down the snow-covered pavement before she made her way over to the car.

She could see Melissa huddled in the backseat, the silver knife gripped tightly in her hands, and Alex's grace unlocked the back door so she could pull it open. "Hey," she greeted, her good eye flashing in amusement to see how the woman jumped in surprise. "Everything okay out here?"

"Everything's fine." The woman managed a weak smile that didn't quite reach her fear-darkened eyes. "Is — did you —"

"We're still working on it." Alex turned her eyes back onto the road, peering into the darkness that lay beyond the yellow glow of the street lamps. "What we're hunting is called a qareen — all we need to do is find its heart." She ignored Melissa's confused look with a flick of her wings. "We'll be back shortly."

With that, she closed the door, her eyes narrowed as she slipped back across the street and into the white-painted shop. The ceiling overhead creaked with Sam's heavy footsteps, but Alex ignored them as she crossed the room and descended the stairs. She felt Lucifer's grace stir, nothing more than a lazy, curious twist, and she gently pushed it back into place as she stepped onto the concrete landing.

"— mean who am I?" she heard Dean ask, and she froze, her grace snapping out through the half-finished basement. She could feel the Winchester on the other side of the room, hidden by the sheets of plastic hanging from the ceiling, and just in front of him rested something as hot as fire.

"You're a mystery." A familiar voice spoke, one that had Alex's hair standing on end, and she slipped forward, her wings drawn in tight as she wove silently through the plastic maze. "I can see inside your heart. Feel the love you feel. Except it's cloaked in shame. When it comes to this, you can't help yourself, so why fight it? Just give in."

The plastic parted, revealing Dean Winchester and Amara, and Alex instinctively reached back to draw her weapon at the sight of the Darkness even as her grace reminded her that what stood before her was the qareen.

Dean's eyes flickered past the creature to rest on her, and Amara followed his gaze. Her face darkened, and Alex lifted her wings warily as she moved inwards. "So, you're a qareen, huh?" she asked, and she forced her grace to pull her weapon up her sleeve and out of sight. "I don't think I've ever seen one of you before."

Dean threw himself forward, but the attack was hesitant, and the qareen easily caught him by the throat. The Winchester's eyes went wide, and he gasped for air, his nails scrabbling at her hand. Alex's weapon fell back down into her grasp, and she rushed towards them. The qareen threw Dean across the room to meet her attack, and the Winchester hit the floor as Alex wound up for the punch.

The creature moved faster than anticipated. She sidestepped the blow, and Alex let out a shout of surprise as hot fingers dug into her temple, holding her head tight. Amara's eyes flashed with fire. "Let's see what's in here," she hissed, and Alex groaned as the heat from her fingers pulsed inwards in one hot, painful burst.

The air in front of her shimmered, and Amara's dark eyes faded, replaced with ones of icy blue; Alex distantly felt her weapon fall from her hands and clatter to the concrete floor. "There we go." A hand swiped through dirty blonde hair as the qareen stepped away, and Alex felt her wings tremble in shock. "Now this … this I wasn't expecting, _le pas agi._ "

The Enochian sounded foreign on the qareen's tongue, and Alex's feathers rustled, but she stayed silent as Lucifer chuckled. Her eyes flickered back onto Dean, her grace drawing in tightly in at the look of horror on his face. Her head snapped back to Lucifer — to the qareen — as she felt him step closer, and she balled her fists. Her grace snapped outwards, flickering the lights above their head. _Come on, Sam. Where are you?_

The qareen threw himself forward with a snarl, and Alex steeled herself, ready to defend herself and Dean, but the opportunity never came. The qareen stopped short, his eyes going wide as he gasped for air. The air vibrated, a slow thrum at first but picking up speed, and a white light burned within his chest. Alex stepped back, the back of her legs bumping into the wooden table as the creature tremored, his mouth stretching widen in a pained scream as it imploded.

It disappeared in a cloud of smoke, vanishing into thin air, and Alex's wings drew in close as she turned to look back at Dean, her eyes as wide as his. "I won't tell Sam if you don't," she breathed out.

Dean didn't respond, and Alex watched as he pushed himself to his feet. "Where's Sam?"

"He's upstairs. He must have … he must have found the heart." Alex suppressed a small shiver as she reached down to feel Lucifer's grace, curling around it in search of comfort. "We should go find him." She rushed up the stairs without a second's hesitation, willing her hands to stop shaking. Why did that _thing_ have to show her Lucifer?

"Dean?" Footsteps thundered on the stairs as Sam hurried down from the upper level, his brown hair tousled and sticking to his face. Hazel eyes were stretched wide in alarm as he looked past Alex in search of his brother.

"We're okay." Alex rocked up onto her tiptoes to touch Sam's temple, healing a cut that bled freely. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Sonja." Sam ran his hands through his hair, smoothing it back as relief flooded his eyes at the sight of Dean, safe and unharmed. He glanced behind him, and Alex followed his gaze to see Melissa standing there, her silver knife in her hands. "The witch is dead," he relayed, "and I found the heart. Is the qareen …"

"Dead." Alex jumped in before Dean could say anything. "It just sort of … collapsed in on itself, I guess. What are you doing here?" she added over to Melissa. "I told you to stay in the car."

"I … I saw Sonja follow you in." The woman shifted uncomfortably under Alex's sharp stare, and Alex looked away as Dean's shoulder brushed against her.

She turned, looking up at him, but the Winchester continued on, pushing his way out of the store. "We'll drive you back to your house," she promised, frowning at Dean's sudden departure. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

...

 **T** he motel lights flickered, and Alex glanced up at the ceiling with a frown. Her head tipped as she watched the lightbulb flicker again, and her grace reached out to feel through the walls. "Faulty wiring. Great." She spoke the words to herself, barely loud enough for Sam to hear. The Winchester sat at the table, his packed bag on the floor next to him as he stared down at his laptop. He looked up as she spoke, his angular face scrunched. "Must be," he agreed, and his eyes turned towards the closed bathroom door where Dean had locked himself away. "Hey, I gotta ask. Who was it that Dean saw with the qareen? He's been acting a little … a little weird since we got back."

Alex felt her face flush at the memory, and she busied herself by shoving her computer into her bag. "Sorry," she apologized, forcing a smile to keep her tone light. "It's not my place to share a guy's darkest desires. You're gonna have to ask him yourself."

 _Amara and Lucifer._ Alex turned away so Sam couldn't see her scowl. _The Darkness and the devil himself. Talk about fucked up._

The bathroom door opened to reveal Dean, and Alex slipped past him into the small room, her bag in her hands. She kicked the door shut and locked it, rolling her eyes as she started to throw her things haphazardly into her bag. "So," she heard Sam start. "You gonna keep me in suspense or what?"

Dean's surprise was palpable. "About what?"

"Who was it? Bach or Simpson?"

Silence followed the question, and Alex paused, her wings flitting nervously as she awaited the answer. "Neither," Dean finally admitted. "It was Amara."

Another long pause followed his words, and Alex flinched away from inside the bathroom; that secret had been the one consolation that Dean wouldn't tell Sam about what the qareen had seen in her. "That surprise you?" she finally heard Sam ask.

"That _doesn't_ surprise you?" Dean immediately countered. Sam said something, his one-word question lost beneath the rustling as Alex shoved the last of her things into her bag. "Honesty?" Dean said, incredulity lining his voice. "You seriously think the sister of God is my deepest, darkest desire?"

"She isn't?"

" _No!_ She can't be!" Dean's voice was rising higher in desperation, and Alex zipped up her duffle bag, reluctant to rejoin the Winchesters.

"Why not?" Sam asked as she pulled open the door; he was on his feet, standing in front of his brother, and his eyes flickered over to her as he spoke.

Dean scoffed, seemingly unaware of her return. "Why? Because if she is that means I'm …"

He trailed off, his face darkened with a mixture of pain and horror. His jaw tightened as he tried to fight against his anger and rein his emotions back, but his eyes still revealed his fear. "Means you're what?" Sam challenged; despite the sharpness of his words, his face was calm. "Complicit? Weak? Evil?"

"For starters, yeah."

"Dean." Sam sat down on the edge of the table, his hands on his knees. "Do you honestly think you ever had a choice in the matter? She's the sister of God, and for some reason she picked you and that sucks, but if you think I'm gonna blame you or judge you … I'm not. Right?" His eyes swung over to Alex, and the angel reluctantly dropped her bag down onto the bed.

"Right," she agreed as Dean's eyes turned onto her. "Look, there's just some things in life that we … we can't control, and there's no point in blaming ourselves for it."

She watched as Dean's face darkened at her words, and she picked up her bag once more and slipped past him, her wings drawn in close. "You know that I want her ass dead," Dean insisted, his voice dropping low.

"Yes. Of course." Sam jumped to agree, and Alex pulled on her shoes as he added, "And I know you've also probably beaten yourself up a hundred times over it, but where has that gotten us?" A long silence followed his words, and Alex glanced over her shoulder in time to watch Sam shift upon the table with a sigh. "Just how bad is it?"

Dean hesitated. "Standing here right now, every bone in my body wants to run her through," he finally said, each word spoken slowly. "To send her back to that hole she crawled out of. But when I'm near her … I don't know. Something happens and I can't explain it, but to call it desire or love — it's not that." His shoulders fell, and he shook his head. "I'm screwed, man. We want to kill the Darkness — we _need_ to kill the Darkness. And I don't think I can. I'm sorry to do that to you, ya know, but when it comes right down to it …"

He fell silent, his face darkening as he thought, and Sam pushed himself to his feet. "I get it, Dean," he promised; a glance over at Alex had the young angel nodded in agreement. "You going somewhere?"

"Yeah." Alex slung her bag over her shoulder and she reached for the motel door. "I'm not liking this radio-silence from Crowley," she said, the practiced lie coming easily. "I don't know if he's busy or if he's sulking, but I'm going to check up on him. Now isn't the time for him to go AWOL like this."

She avoided Dean's gaze, her wings drawn in tightly in hopes that the Winchester wouldn't question her motives. Sam nodded, and Alex slipped out of the motel room, shaking her wings out as she hurried away. "Luce?" She whispered the archangel's name as she stepped out of sight of the motel, and she felt his grace twist inside of her in answer. Castiel's grace sat beneath it, a hard, impenetrable ball, and Alex prodded at it with a tight-lipped frown. "The case is over with. I'm on my way."


	36. The Vessel

**January 20th, 2016**  
 **Fall Rivers, Massachusetts**

 **T** he cold winter air seeped in through the stone walls, chilling the asylum's rooms. Alex shifted on the cold iron throne, her broken wings pulled tightly around her as she fought back a shiver. Her hands were pulled up into her jacket, her knees drawn up as her grace thrummed through her limbs. It didn't help that Lucifer's grace sat inside her chest, sucking the heat from her blood.

She let her grace stretch out, feeling through the halls in search of the archangel, stifling a frown when he was nowhere to be found. "Great." Alex slumped down in the uncomfortable seat, her eyes turning off to the side. "Where the hell is he at?"

A grunt came from the right, hidden in the shadows, and Alex turned her attention there with a frown. The sound came again, sharp with desperation, and Alex pushed herself to her feet. "Crowley?" Her wings curled forward as she approached, her good eye narrowed as she dropped down in front of the metal bars. Crowley sat inside, crouched in a small, cramped hole. His face was dirty, smudged with grime. With a twitch of her wings, Alex pulled open the metal gate, and the platform upon which the demon crouched automatically rolled out to bring him into the light. "I'm sorry, is that a ball gag?"

She yanked the gag out from his mouth, and Crowley worked his sore jaw with a grunt of pain. "Thank you." The demon's voice rasped, as if he hadn't spoken for days, and Alex tugged curiously at the thick iron collar around his neck, the sides decorated with sharp, rusted spikes. "What are you doing here?"

"Take a guess." Alex's hands fell back into her lap as she rocked back onto her heels. "The Winchesters were getting worried because you haven't been returning their calls. I told them I'd check up on you."

"Well, tell them to get me the hell out of —" Crowley fell silent, his eyes falling back onto the ground, and Alex immediately knew why. She could feel Lucifer behind her, powerful and cold, and she rose to her feet to face the archangel.

Crimson wings folded forward, and Alex returned the greeting, keeping her own wings low as she brushed her broken feathers against his. "What's going on here?" Lucifer crossed the throne room in three steps, and Alex's wings arched warily — they quickly fell back down with a single look from Lucifer. "It looks like someone let the puppy out of his cage."

Crowley crouched against the floor, his eyes fixed upon the ground, and with a snap of Lucifer's fingers, the gag was back in place. "We were just talking." Alex put a hand on Crowley's head, her lips pursing at the feel of his thin, greasy hair. "Sam and Dean sent me — they haven't heard from him in a while and were concerned."

Cold hands found her hips, pulling her close. "Well, you get to tell them that he's alive, safe and sound." Lucifer's grace flicked out, and Crowley disappeared back behind the metal bars. "Now. How was this hunt of yours?"

"Kind of boring, kind of fun." Alex crossed back over to the throne and plopped down with a shrug. "It was a qareen — the damn thing didn't die when I stabbed it with this." She drew her angel blade with a flourishing gesture, twirling it in her hands.

The tip ended up pointing directly at Lucifer's chest, and the archangel gently pushed it aside. "I'm not surprised," he agreed. "A qareen is little more than a heart; everything else you see is just a manifestation. This won't do much." His wings curled down around her, and Alex shivered as his grace pressed into hers. "What?"

"You're cold." She wasn't sure what Lucifer did, but his grace twisted, and the air grew warm. Alex reached out to grab his coat, keeping him close, and the archangel planted his hands on the back of the throne to prop himself up as he leaned over her. A smirk pulled at his lips, and Alex frowned, reaching up to touch his cheek. "It's too bad you couldn't keep your old vessel," she murmured. "It's … weird … seeing you in Cas."

Amusement danced across his face, and Lucifer's lips parted in a breathy chuckle. "And here you had me thinking that you preferred this look," he teased, his voice a whisper in the quiet \ room. "This is the one you chose, after all."

"I chose the angel inside." Alex reached up to tap Lucifer on the forehead, right between the eyes. "This one, it just doesn't fit you." Her eyes slid past the devil towards the set of double doors, frowning to find several heads peeking in. "Looks like we have company."

 _Demons?_ Lucifer mouthed the word, and when Alex nodded, his face hardened. His wings drew back, the feathers rustling as they puffed out in frustration. "Ah. That's right. They wanted to speak with me." He spoke loud enough for the demons in the doorway to hear. "You're welcome to stick around," he added in a softer voice, "or you can come back later. This shouldn't take long."

"I've got nowhere else to go." Alex slid out of the chair at Lucifer's unspoken prodding, circling around to stand behind the throne as the archangel dropped down into it, his crimson wings stretching lazily over the armrests.

He motioned the demons in with a dismissive flick of his hand, and Alex's wings lifted as five demons entered, all dressed in black suits. Feathers brushed across her stomach, and Alex looked over in time to see the archangel's fingers crook. "Come here." He waved Alex near; his hands grabbed at her jacket as Alex stepped forward, and she bent down so he could whisper in her ear. "I don't have anything to say," he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. "I just wanted to make them wait." The hands in her jacket moved upwards, creeping up to her collar to keep her near as he kissed her, and Alex felt her wings immediately fall down, spread out slightly to expose the soft undersides.

"You're an idiot," she murmured as she pulled away, and the archangel tsked. He tapped the metal armrest, and Alex rolled her eyes as she followed his instruction, dropping down to the ground to sit with a muttered, "You've got to be kidding me."

Lucifer's hand moved onto her hair, and his fingers tugged her head up as he leaned forward. "I think you look good on your knees."

"Uh … sir?" One of the demons spoke up, and Alex ripped her head out of Lucifer's grasp, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. "Would you like to hear the latest soul numbers?"

"No." Lucifer leaned back in his seat with a dismissive flick of his wings. "Because I don't care." His hand returned to Alex's head, his cold fingers stroking her blonde hair as he thought. "Come on up," he instructed, patting his leg, and Alex watched as the demons exchanged looks among themselves.

One demon elbowed her way to the front, and Alex paused, halfway through pushing herself upwards. "How about an update on Amara?" she demanded. Alex felt Lucifer pause, and the demon's chin lifted defiantly, accepting his silence as permission to continue. "Well, the update is … well, that there is no update. We still haven't found —"

"Sir, if I may." The first demon spoke, interjecting himself back into the conversation. "Since you've claimed the throne, we could use some direction." He shifted forward, and Alex glanced upwards in time to see Lucifer dramatically roll his eyes. " _Any_ direction," the demon insisted. "We could deploy a force. Real boots on the ground, shake the trees to find her! With you leading the charge, of course," he hastily added. "We have had a coward, and a fool, at the helm too long. Perhaps it's time to —"

A low, quiet moan filled the air, and Lucifer lifted a finger to his lips to signal the demon to be silent. "Doggy wants to speak."

A wave of his hand had the metal bars sliding open to reveal Crowley. The gag fell away, and Crowley gasped for air, drawing in two quick breaths before he spoke. "How _dare_ you?" Crowley hissed, his dull brown eyes locking upon the congregation of demons. "The impotence. The lack of humility. It's no way to talk to your master." His eyes turned onto the archangel. "Lucifer."

Lucifer's lips twitched in a faint smirk, his eyes glimmering in pleased amusement. "That's a good doggy," he praised. "Now." He turned back to the demons, and his fingers drummed upon Alex's head, his wings rising in the hint of a threat. "You want to do something? How about this?" He leaned forward in his seat, and his voice dropped. "Go to my crypt and bring me every weapon that's in there."

The demons scattered, casting looks back at Crowley as they left, and Alex pushed herself to her feet as the door closed behind them. "What's in your crypt?" she asked, moving to sit on Lucifer's lap. "I think … I think I've been to one, actually." She screwed up her eyes as she thought, and her feathers rustled as she shifted her wings. "It's where we found the angel tablet."

She looked over at Crowley for confirmation, but the demon gave no indication that he was even listening. Cold fingers came to rest on her cheek, turning her head back so she was looking at Lucifer. "They wanted something to do, so I gave them that."

Alex frowned, turning her attention down onto Lucifer's coat as she thought. "What about Amara?" she finally asked. "The Darkness is a serious threat, and you can't just _ignore_ her, not — not when you're the only one who can stop her." She lifted her eyes onto Lucifer's face, adding, "You _can_ stop her, right? Tell me the truth, Luce."

"The truth?" The hand on her cheek moved to cup the back of her neck. "You know that I always tell you the truth." Lucifer's voice dropped low, too quiet for Crowley to hear. "I have faced Amara in the past, and Capital G and I slammed her into that pit."

"But that was with God."

"Yes, Dad was still on the team back then," Lucifer agreed; his hand tightened ever so slightly, a silent signal for her to watch her tone. "If you put me up against Amara right this second, I can't promise that I would come out on top." He tapped Alex on the nose, and the angel couldn't help but roll her eyes at the childish act. "Yes, I may be a bit under-equipped, and yes, maybe defeating Amara was a bit more of a team effort than I lead certain individuals to believe. But I'm not giving up yet." He nudged Alex off of his lap, and his eyes turned onto Crowley, still crouched in the corner. His grace snuck out to undo the chains, and he let out a high-pitched whistle. "Come here, doggy."

He pointed to the ground on the right side of the throne, and Alex watched as Crowley obeyed, crawling across the cement on his hands and knees with a muttered, "Yes, sir." His chains dragged behind him, a loud, grating sound, and the young angel stepped out of the way to let the demon past.

Lucifer watched him move, his blue eyes narrowed in thought as the demon settled himself beside the throne. His index finger dragged across his bottom lip, pausing momentarily as if to speak, but it was Alex who broke the silence, her grace twitching displeasingly as she saw the double doors swing open to reveal two demons."That didn't take them long."

"Not long at all." Lucifer shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat as he strolled forward. A wooden rack was wheeled in from the hall, filled with an assortment of weapons; most appeared to be spears, although something like a battle axe stuck out from the side, half-hidden by a gleaming metal helmet that shone with the brightness of an angel blade. "That's all of it?" The archangel's disappointment was palpable as he stopped beside the rack of weapons.

"Yes, sir." One of the demons removed a long spear and held it out, and Lucifer accepted it with a thin frown. "The requested weaponry from your crypt. Does it … please you?" The demon's voice faltered as Lucifer rolled his eyes and turned away, and Alex let her eyes return to the showcase of weapons.

"Spare me." Lucifer turned away, running his fingers along the smooth, carved shaft of the spear. The demons disappeared, moving swiftly to get away from the archangel, and once the door closed behind them, Alex hefted the large double-headed axe from its stand. "Careful." Lucifer spoke with his back to her, and Alex paused, her fingers inches away from running along the blade. "Many of these weapons come from heaven itself. They aren't something to be trifled with."

"Yeah, I know," Alex lied, withdrawing her fingers and returning them to grasp the wooden handle. "Who the fuck used a battle axe, huh? Feels very _Lord of the Rings_." She swung the weapon around curiously, and her grace prickled against the material.

"How are your wounds, doggy?" Lucifer crossed back over to Crowley, balancing the gilded spear in his hands, and Alex's wings flittered at his words. She carefully set the axe back down, flinching as the handle slipped. It hit the floor with a _thud_ , and Alex jumped forward to grab the axe before it clattered to the ground.

A quick look back at Lucifer showed that he hadn't seemed to notice, and Alex quickly righted the axe before she turned. Crowley pressed himself against the concrete, his head bowed and shoulders tight as he cowered, and for the first time, Alex noticed the dried, blackened bloodstains that decorated his clothes. "They are … no less than I deserved," he intoned, and Alex crossed the stone floor to stand in front of him.

"What did you do to him?" She crouched down, her head tipped to one side as she looked up at Lucifer. "And why?" she added, her good eye falling back down onto Crowley. "What did he do?"

Crowley's eyes flickered upwards before returning to the ground, and Lucifer reached out to nudge his side with the butt of the spear. "Why don't you tell her, doggy?" he suggested, and Crowley winced at the impact of the shaft against his ribs. "Tell her what you've done."

"I …" Crowley shifted on the ground, and his chains clanked against the cement. "I didn't return you before dusk, and I didn't stop you from joining in on that hunt." The response came quickly with a practiced ease, and Alex frowned.

"He hurt you for that?" Alex reached out, her hand coming to rest on Crowley's shoulder, but Lucifer knocked it away with the butt of his spear. "Stop that," she chastised, batting away the weapon. "He tried to do all of that, but I wouldn't let him." She pushed herself to her feet, her broken wings rising in the hint of a threat as she turned to the archangel. "It wasn't his fault."

Lucifer clicked his tongue. "He had a job, and he didn't do it." A crimson wing caught Crowley over the top of the head. "Keep going."

"I — I imprisoned you, tortured you, I-I …" Crowley hesitated, and his eyes flickered over to Lucifer before dropping back onto the ground. "I owned you."

"Good puppy." Lucifer's hand went out to rest upon Crowley's head, and the demon visibly flinched. "Aww," he cooed, and Alex frowned to find that his attention had fallen away from her. "You're scared of your master. That's a good doggy." His grip tightened, and he grabbed Crowley's ear, tilting his head upwards as he pulled the demon up onto his knees. "But it's an act." Lucifer's tone darkened. "I broke you, but um …" He bent over, his nostrils flaring as he drew in a dramatic breath through his nose. "Yep, I can still smell it. You've got that delectable little whiff of defiance."

"Luce —"

He ignored her. "You're just playing, aren't you? Waiting for your moment to retake the throne? Am I right?"

Crowley hesitated for only a moment before he answered. "Yes, sir."

Lucifer let go of Crowley's hair, and the demon slumped back down. "Well, then." He stepped away, leaning the spear up against one of the stone pillars as he circled around to stand behind Alex. His fingers brushed down her arm, his attention momentarily drifting from the demon before he spoke again. "Tell me, once and future king of Hell, you've been watching my role — what treasonous thoughts do you have brewing in that little head of yours, huh?" One arm wrapped around Alex's waist as he waited for an answer, and when Crowley didn't respond, a wing went out to flick the demon on the head. "What are you really thinking, hmm?"

"The truth, sir?" Crowley lifted his head to watch Lucifer nod, and brown eyes flickered over onto Alex before he spoke. "You're not strong enough. You had your weapons delivered, and you realize they won't be enough. If you thought you could beat Amara, you'd be taking the fight to her right now!" His voice rose, and he snapped his jaw shut with an audible _click_.

Alex felt Lucifer pause, and after a moment his fingers drummed upon her hip. "You're a clever doggy," he admitted, and Alex could hear the smile in his voice as his lips brushed against her ear. "But I think your attitude needs work. I'm still your master — did I let you out of that kennel too soon?"

Crowley's face paled. His whispered, "No," was lost beneath the ringing of Castiel's phone, and Alex stepped away from Lucifer to watch the archangel answer the call.

"No barking," Lucifer warned as he looked down at the screen. "It's showtime. Hello, Dean." His voice dropped an octave as he answered, and Alex knelt back down in front of Crowley, her grace sneaking out to feel for the deep wounds that decorated the demon's body. A foot tapped her hip, and Alex looked up to see Lucifer shaking his head, his wings ushering her back to her feet and away from Crowley.

She moved back to sit on the throne, reclining against the cold metal seat as she watched Lucifer speak with Dean. Her own phone vibrated, and she looked down to see a text from Sam. _Found something that might give us a shot at Amara._

"What's that?" A push of Lucifer's wings had him standing behind her, and Alex tilted her head back to watch him stow his phone back into his pocket.

"Sam texted me." She tapped on the reply box as she spoke, her thumbs dancing above the screen as she thought of a reply. "Probably about the same thing that Dean just called you about."

"No. What's that?" Lucifer's finger poked at her phone, and Alex scrolled up to the image that she had sent several hours earlier.

"Oh, that's a dog." Alex clicked on the picture to show it off. "Sam and I sometimes send each other pictures of cute dogs that we see." She locked her phone and tucked it back into her pocket as she stood up, shaking out her wings with a shrug. "What did Dean want? Did he say what they found?"

"Yes." Lucifer's cold fingers danced along her jawline before he pulled away, his blue eyes momentarily darkening as he looked over at Crowley. "I promised Dean we'd be there as early as tomorrow morning." He stepped away and return to the rack of weapons, his crimson wings pulled in tight as he frowned at the poor selection of blades. "If you want to leave, you can. I don't think anything exciting is going to happen tonight." His eyes turned back onto Alex, running across her small figure, and one wing extended back, inviting her closer.

"I think I'll stay." Alex ignored the gesture, choosing instead to pick up the discarded spear. She twisted it, swinging the blade through the air as she tucked the shaft under her elbow. The blade pointed downwards as she bent her knees, leaning back on one heel to assume the crouched position. "It's been a long time since I've handled a spear." She shifted forward, twisting the oversized weapon so the blade was pointed at the far wall.

"Stop that," Lucifer chastised, and Alex spared him a quick look to find that the archangel now held the shining helmet in his hands. "That thing's more powerful than you realize. It's not a toy." Alex twisted the blade again, the tip scoring against the stone as she fumbled the footwork, and Lucifer's grace flicked against hers. "Stop."

"Make me," Alex shot back. Lucifer's eyes glinted, and she reluctantly returned the spear to its place against the wall. "I know my way around a weapon, Luce. I'm not twelve."

"You sure about that?" His grace tugged her closer, and Alex let her feet carry her to his side. "Because sometimes I think you're still a child." Alex scoffed, and the archangel let out a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Oh yeah? Let's talk about how many times you've been _impaled_ since I was last topside."

"Okay, if we're talking literal impalement, it's only been like once and that was a long time ago," Alex defended, and her arms folded sullenly across her chest when Lucifer's cold smile didn't fade. "I mean, sure, I've been shot a-and stabbed a lot — a _lot_ — but I'm an angel, Luce. It doesn't actually hurt me."

She reached out to grab the lapels of his jacket, tugging slightly to try and break the coldness from his face, and she smiled as his eyes softened at the touch. "Are you sure about that?" His cold fingers traced the pale scar across her eye, and Alex's gaze fell down onto the floor. "You're not invincible," he murmured, and his fingers moved down to rest beneath her chin. "You need me to protect you." His hands fell away when Crowley shifted, his chains painfully loud, and the archangel stepped away. "I'm going to put your pet back in his cage, and then you and I will find something to do."

...

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **T** he frozen Kansas road crunched beneath Alex's feet as she landed outside the bunker, and the young angel turned her gaze around the frost-whitened landscape as she suppressed a shiver. Beside her, Lucifer drew in his crimson wings, oblivious to the cold. "Yuck." Alex drew her own wings in tighter as she hurried towards the door, her hands drawn up inside her jacket sleeves as she jumped down the metal stairs. "I think it's going to snow again."

Her grace prickled as she spoke, and she turned her good eye up to the cloudy grey skies. "I think you're right," Lucifer agreed as he followed her down; somehow, his cold grace was a comfort despite the sub-zero air. "A storm is headed this way."

Alex scowled out her displeasure as she yanked the bunker door open, and she rushed inside, eager to get out of the cold. Lucifer followed slowly, moving at a slow, casual amble, and Alex's grace snapped against his to hurry up as he pulled the door shut behind him. "Hello?" Alex started down the stairs, lifting her voice so it would echo through the room. "Sam, Dean?"

"Right here." Sam was seated at the war room table, his computer in front of him. Dean stood a few feet away, half-obscured by a wooden board that had been placed in the center of the room. There were three of them, actually, and Alex could see the corners of papers sticking out from the edges.

"You two came together," Dean noted, moving so he could watch them descend the stairs. "Should have guessed it."

"We met up along the way," Alex lied, glancing back at Lucifer. "I checked in with Crowley, by the way. He's alive and well, if not a little temperamental. I think the whole Lucifer thing rattled him pretty good." Her eyes turned onto the cork boards as she approached Sam; they were full of papers, pinned there with clear tacks.

"Unsurprisingly," Lucifer added, his voice a low rattle in his chest. "What is it you found?"

"Take a seat." Sam motioned to the chairs across from him, and Alex plopped down in the middle one, leaving Lucifer to sit on her right. "So," he began, "I don't know if you guys knew this, but the Nazis had a special branch devoted to archeology. It's called the _Ahnenerbe_. There were sites all over the world."

"That's … interesting, I guess," Alex agreed, "but what does that have to do with Amara?" She leaned back in her seat, drawing her legs up to tuck them underneath her, and Lucifer's hand went out under the table, his fingers splayed and resting against her knee.

"Because I found something." If either brother noticed the gesture, neither showed any signs. "A weapon strong enough to give us a shot at Amara." Sam closed his laptop and reached for one of the books that lay open on the table. "They refer to it as the 'Hand of God' — I mean, that was sort of a catch-all term for several objects He touched on earth in Biblical times. But they're believed to contain traces of His power …" Sam trailed off slightly as Lucifer straightened up in his seat. "What?"

"There were several God-touched objects, but it never occurred to me that any of them survived the flood, let alone the twentieth century." Barely disguised excitement glinted in Lucifer's eyes; despite the forced stoicism on his face, Alex could feel his grace tremor. He rose to his feet and approached the boards, his eyes turning across the diagrams and maps that hung there. He paused beside the middle one, one hand finger coming up to brush curiously across a printed picture of Moses and the ten commandments.

"Do you think we could use it against Amara?" Sam asked, and he pushed the book towards them so Alex could lean forward and skim through the pages.

"It's perfect," Lucifer promised. For a moment, his excitement took hold, and his voice rose higher than it should have; in the next second, he dropped it back down as he turned to face the brothers. "Where is it?"

"That's the thing." Sam pulled his laptop near and opened it up. "En route to Berlin, it was stolen. The Nazis searched high and low for the thief, but they never found their prime suspect, uh, a Delphine Seydoux. French mistress to a high-ranking Nazi. Thought to be a French traitor, until she killed her German love and made off with the weapon."

Alex glanced over at Lucifer, and the archangel's wings brushed against hers, curling around the back of her chair. "So she was, what, some sort of spy, then?" she asked, turning back to Sam.

"That's what the Nazis thought, but their investigation led them to a different conclusion. That she was an 'un femme de lettre.' "

"Woman of Letters," Dean added, a hint of pride in his voice as he translated the obvious, and Alex fixed him with a blank, tight-lipped stare.

"They got her out on a submarine," Sam continued. "A, uh, USS Bluefin. It sunk somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic ocean."

"Great." Lucifer circled back around to stand behind Alex's chair. "I can get you back there."

"Without wings?" Sam's confused question had Alex internally wincing. "Cas, you can't even fly."

Alex's own broken wings twitched, and Lucifer's gaze turned onto her, taking a silent moment to gather his lie as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair back behind Alex's ear. "Time travel," he began, "is a — it's a whole different system." He ignored Dean's exclamation of, "Told ya!" as he crossed over to the left board to study the black and white nautical chart. "So, uh, these the last coordinates?"

"That's the Bluefin's last transmission to shore, yeah," Dean agreed, and he dropped down into the chair beside his brother, one hand slung back over the back.

Lucifer hummed, interest lifting his tone, and Alex pushed herself to her feet. "Wait a second, Cas." Sam's chair squeaked as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Aren't there still risks with time travel? I-I mean, aren't there consequences?"

Lucifer hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he processed the question, but Dean jumped to answer. "Sam, this is the ideal scenario," he insisted, turning in his seat to fully face his brother. "That sub is a tin can floating in the middle of the ocean doomed to go down. You can't really mess with history at 20,000 leagues. So we get in, get the weapon, get out. It's a milk run."

"Milk run," Alex repeated with an enthusiastic nod. Lucifer hummed out his agreement, and Alex pushed down her concern; maybe working a job with him and the Winchesters together wasn't a good idea. Lucifer's grace pressed against hers, a quiet reminder that she was standing there, mouth half-open, and she hurried to add, "It's a couple of people on a sub. How dangerous can that be?"

The darkening of Sam's eyes answered her question, but he let out a reluctant sigh. "Okay," he agreed. "It's not a good plan, but I'm in."

"No." Dean stood, and Sam did the same, his angular face scrunched in confusion. "You're not going."

"I beg your pardon? You — you want me to stay here?" Hazel eyes flickered over to Alex, and the young angel shrugged, unsure which brother she should side with.

"Just in case things go sideways, somebody needs to be left standing to take care of the Darkness. We can't risk both of us," he added, his voice rising when Sam's brow furrowed. "And at the moment, I'm the least valuable player! You all know that I can't kill Amara, so the least I can do is get the thing that we need so that you can!"

"So you expect me to sit here and ride the pine while you and Cas go play Jules Verne?"

"Yes!" Dean snapped, immediately followed by a, "No! I — who?"

"I'm coming, too." Alex added, breaking into their bickering, and both brothers fell silent with scowl. She felt Lucifer's wings twitch, stirring the papers on the board, and she turned to see the small frown upon his face. "Come on, _Cas_. I never get invited to play _Back to the Future_ , and how often do I get a chance to go back onto a submarine, huh?"

She expected Lucifer to argue — in true Castiel fashion — but the archangel merely nodded. "Okay." He turned his eyes onto Sam, whose scowl had deepened tenfold. "I won't let them out of my sight," he promised.

"Okay." Sam heaved a resigned sigh as he turned to Dean. "Be safe."

"When am I not?" Dean pounded the table with a closed fist, a signal of his victory, and he pushed in his chair. "Let's do this, Cas." He crossed over to stand in front of Lucifer, and Alex circled around to stand on his other side, one hand going down to entwine with Lucifer's. "Bon voyage," he joked back at Sam, and Lucifer put a hand on Dean's shoulder as his wings rose.

Alex wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but she wasn't prepared for the rush of grace that surrounded them, cold and disorientating, and she tightened her grip on Lucifer's hand as her wings pulled in tight. The ground heaved beneath them, and her eyes stretched wide as she tried to catch sight of the air changing around them, but everything had faded to black — a black so deep, Alex wasn't sure if her eyes were open or not. The darkness lasted barely a second, and then Alex's wings flared out as the ground dropped away from her feet.

The darkness was fading, replaced with a watery-blue, and Alex let out a shout as she collided head-first with a large, metallic … wall? Her hands went out to feel it, to push it away, but the object in front of her immediately vanished from her thoughts as her senses finally caught up to her. Her scream was drowned by water, cold and salty. Bile rose in her throat, forcing the water back, and her arms instinctively started moving, trying to push her out from under the waves.

Her blood pounded in her ears as she struggled upwards, straining toward the distant light, but something wrapped around her arm, pulling her away from the surface and back into the blackened depths. And then the whole world was gone.

She was standing outside in the cold, her shoes buried in snow. They were wet — everything was wet. Her clothes were soaked, clinging to her skin, and Alex barely had a moment to register that fact before she doubled over, heaving up a stomachful of seawater. Arms wrapped around her, holding her close, and despite the coldness of his grace, warmth spread through Alex's limbs. "Let's get out of the cold."

The world shifted, and the front door to the bunker was in front of them. Alex staggered slightly, unready for the transition, but Lucifer kept her upright, supporting her with one hand as he led the way through the door and out of the cold. "Cas?" Alex heard Sam jump to his feet, and she shook off Lucifer's help as she moved down the stairs. "Why are you —" He cut off, and Alex heard desperation creep into his voice. "Wait a second, where's Dean?"

Lucifer stepped past her, and Alex watched the water droplets roll off of his soaked hair. "We made the leap," he informed Sam, his voice flat. "He got on, we didn't." He looked down at his waterlogged coat as Sam's face went blank, and he explained, "We couldn't make it past the hull."

He stripped off his coat and tossed it over the back of a chair with a snarl, and Alex clenched her teeth as a shiver passed through her. "Someone must have warded the sub," she explained. Her canvas jacket was heavy on her shoulders, and she shrugged it off, shaking out her wings — somehow, even the ethereal feathers felt heavy and waterlogged.

Lucifer grunted his agreement and stalked off towards the library; Sam hurried after him. "Delphine?" he guessed. "It has to be — I mean, she's protecting the weapon, right?" Lucifer grunted again, tugging on his tie to loosen it, and Sam circled around to stand in front of him. "Cas, just go back to their last port, before she boarded! Leave a message so Dean knows!"

"Where?" Lucifer retorted; his voice rumbled angrily deep within his chest. "Where would Dean see it that the crew wouldn't? He's as likely to find the warding as he is any message I'd leave."

Sam's desperation faltered, and his eyes flickered past Lucifer to land on Alex, who was slowly making her way to join them. "Then send me," he decided. "You got Dean past the hull."

Lucifer scoffed. "Right. We'll double down on what screwed us the first time." His grace twisted in exasperation, and his imitation of Castiel momentarily faltered as he moved past Sam to lean against a chair on the other side of the table. "You're really bringing your A ideas today. I can't believe I lost it." Sam blinked, and Lucifer sighed. " _Him_ ," he corrected, and he lifted his head to look Sam in the eyes as his voice dropped low once again. "I can't believe I lost Dean." He sighed again, his fingers drumming against the back of the chair. "Well, it's up to him now to find and clear the warding."

"No. We can help." Sam hurried over to the bookcase behind him. "There's got to be something in magic o-or angel lore!" He pulled a thick leather-bound book off of the shelf. "Some way to clear the sigils from the outside."

"Perhaps." Lucifer sounded less than convinced, and his eyes turned onto Alex. They flickered downwards towards her feet, and Alex followed his gaze to the puddle she now stood in. "Come on." He straightened up and extended a hand towards her, motioning her towards him. "It isn't good for you to stay wet like that. We'll be back soon," he promised Sam, and Alex trailed after him, her shoes squelching with each step.

"Time travel sucks," she muttered, kicking them off as they entered the hallway; her socks soon followed, and she padded barefoot after the archangel.

Arms wrapped around her shoulder, and Alex shivered as the wet sleeve of his suit pressed against the back of her neck. "I'll take you someplace drier next time." Lucifer guided her into her room, and Alex locked the door behind them with her grace.

"There's some towels in the bottom drawer," she instructed, flicking a wing off towards the dresser. "May as well dry yourself off, too." She pulled off her belt and tossed it onto the bed with a frown, and she waited for Lucifer to pull two towels out and toss one her way. "Are you sure Dean made it on okay?"

"Yes." Lucifer rubbed the towel across his head, trying to dry his dark hair. "I made sure of that." He paused, a small grin upon his face. "I may not like him, but I'm a team player." He watched as Alex rolled her eyes, and his crimson wings motioned in her direction. "You should change. You don't want to catch hypothermia."

Alex's wings curled around her, and she slipped past him to dig through her dresser. "I should," she agreed, and she tossed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt onto the bed behind her before she turned to look up at the archangel. "You're going to have to wait outside, though."

Lucifer dragged the towel down across his shoulder; at her words he paused, and his grin grew. "I thought I was supposed to be your mate," he rumbled, pulling her close, and his towel fell to the ground. "What is Sam going to think?"

"I think Sam will understand." Alex planted her hands against his wet chest, pressing her grace inwards to rest against his. "I'm sure he'll appreciate the help with removing those sigils." Lucifer hesitated, and one of her hands slipped around to the back of his neck. "I'm going to go take a shower anyways," she added. "I smell like fish."

"You do," Lucifer agreed, and his voice dropped into a low murmur. "Fine. I'll go … assist Sam for the time being." He kissed her, and Alex hummed before she pulled away. "Don't be long." He slung his towel over his shoulder as he stepped out of the room, and Alex gathered up her dry clothes before she crossed the hall towards the showers.

...

 **T** he warmth of the shower chased away the cold, and Alex lingered beneath the spray until the water began to lose its heat. Only then did she reluctantly step out onto the cold tiles, wrapping the thick towel tightly around her body. The air outside the shower was warm and humid, the mirrors foggy, and Alex quickly toweled off before she pulled on her clothes, ignoring how the fabric clung to her still-damp skin.

She stretched out her grace to find Lucifer. He was in the library, close to Sam; at the brush of her grace, he reacted, threads twining around hers. Alex threw her hair up into a messy braid before she skipped out of the bathroom, tossing her towel into her room before she made her way down the hall.

Sam was sitting in the library, his head buried in his book. Lucifer sat at the next table down, reclined in a chair as he stared blankly at the manuscript in front of him. His head turned as she entered, and one large wing stretched out towards her. "Welcome back," he purred, and Alex reached out to brush wingtips as she joined him at the table. "You look better."

"I feel better." Alex ran her hand across his damp hair, and she let her grace flow in in an attempt to dry the archangel's clothes; he stopped her with a quiet click of his tongue. "Find anything?"

The roll of Lucifer's eyes was enough to answer her question, and he slid his chair out, patting his thigh. Alex glanced over at Sam before she chose to sit on the table next to him. "Nothing." Lucifer grabbed her leg and dragged her closer until she was seated in front of him, her bare feet resting on the chair seat in between his spread legs. "There's a reason warding isn't easy to remove from the outside."

Alex curled her wings forward, turning her attention to study the new growth as she hummed out her understanding, and Lucifer's cold fingers moved to rest on her thigh, rubbing small, mindless circles as he watched her.

"Wait a second." Sam suddenly spoke up, and Alex glanced over her shoulder towards the Winchester. "I think I have something," he announced, and Lucifer's grip momentarily tightened on her knee. " 'The spell of gathering,' " he read. "It's an incantation used to focus the power of celestial beings — angels — against all drawn forms of evasion. The spell is designed to clear all mystical or occult blockages." He looked over at the two angels, hesitant excitement painted on his face. "I mean, this is highly theoretical magic — it's never been used before — but it sounds like it could work."

Lucifer hummed, and he leaned to the side so he could look Sam in the eyes. "And the ingredients?" he asked.

"Uh …" Sam dropped his eyes back down onto the book, his finger dragging down the page, and Alex watched as his shoulders suddenly fell. "We have all but one," he announced, dropping back down into his chair. "That's why it's never been used before. It requires the power of an archangel."

He shut the book with a heavy _thud_ , and Alex resisted from exchanging a quick glance with Lucifer. "Well, Sam, we may as well try," she heard him say, and she turned back to him, unable to stop herself from reaching out and dragging her hand through his hair to finish drying it.

Sam's anger flashed through the air. "Hey, come on, guys! Focus," he snapped. "We don't have time for long shots. Cas, even at full power, you're not strong enough." He planted his hands against the table as he pushed himself to his feet, and he stalked away.

"Is he … is he okay?" Alex pulled her hands back into her lap as she watched him go. "It's been a long, _long_ time since he's snapped like that."

She kicked Lucifer in the thigh, bringing her heel down onto the soft flesh, and the archangel's smirk darkened into a scowl. "It's not important," he promised, pushing himself to his feet. "I'm sure he's just worried or something." He crossed over to where Sam had been sitting and picked up the book, flipping through the pages to find the spell that the Winchester had closed.

"You think … you think that'll work?" Alex asked as he returned to his seat, and he pulled her down into his lap as set his book down on the table. "What about …" She dropped her voice low, casting a look around to make sure that Sam hadn't returned. "This thing needs _archangel_ grace, and you — you're not supposed to be an archangel."

"True," Lucifer agreed, mimicking her quiet tone. "But I'm sure what the spell never considered was the grace of two mated angels." His grace within hers rose up, twisting against her own, and Alex grabbed at it and held it close. "Two angels in one, even if yours is … so much less." His grace rose again, unhindered, and Alex shivered at the sheer power behind it, colder and stronger than she had ever shown before. Lucifer chuckled, and he pulled away. "At least, that's all we need Sam to believe."

He nudged her off of his lap, and she moved over to sit in the chair beside him. "Sam said we had all of the ingredients right here," she said, leaning against the table to look at the book in front of them. "What do we need?"

"It's all right here." Lucifer pointed to the list, and Alex whipped her phone out of her pocket to take a picture of the inked writing.

"Yeah, I think that's all downstairs." Alex jumped up to her feet, ready to hurry off, but Sam's reappearance had her pausing, her wings drawing in tight. "You're back. Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine." Sam's eyes flickered across her before dropping onto the book in front of Lucifer. "What — is that the spell? Are you guys nuts?" He stormed up into the library, and Alex shifted back to stand behind Lucifer; one of his wings stretched out to put himself between her and the Winchester. "You're not strong enough, Cas! You could get hurt!"

"You know a better option?" the archangel challenged.

"Well, no," Sam relented, taken aback by Lucifer's retort, "but … without a serious boost to your angel power, that spell won't even work!"

"My strength may surprise you." Lucifer reached out to put his hand on Alex's shoulder, adding, "And I'm not alone. Sometimes love can conquer all."

The line was delivered with a flawless, deadpanned expression, and Alex couldn't help the snort that exploded from her throat. She tried to cover it up with a cough, and she managed a, "He could be right," in Sam's direction before she hurried off down the hall. "I'll go get these things."

...

 **L** ike she had suspected, the ingredients that the spell required were all located downstairs in the storage room. Alex gathered all of the jars up under her arms as she stepped out into the hall, her grace flicking the lights off behind her, and she scurried off towards the stairs. She could hear a conversation in the library up ahead as she reached the second level landing, voices raised, and Alex's wings flicked nervously. That didn't sound good.

She lengthened her stride as she rushed down the hall, but when she felt Castiel's grace stir within her, she slid to a stop, her feet frozen to the ground. It stirred again before lunging upwards, and the glass jars clattered in Alex's arms as a shiver passed up her spine. "Cas?" The shout escaped her lips before she could stop herself, and she dumped the jars onto the floor before she bolted towards the library. Castiel's grace exploded within her, struggling against Lucifer's, and Alex slid to a stop inside the war room, her eyes stretched wide as she stared up into the library.

She didn't know what she had expected to see, but what she saw certainly was worse. Sam was on the floor, stirring groggily as if he had just regained consciousness, and beside him crouched Lucifer — Castiel. Broken blue wings lay at his side, pulled in tightly with fear, and blue eyes lifted at Alex's arrival. They turned back down onto Sam when the Winchester jumped, his mouth opening and closing as he fought for words, and Castiel reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "Sam, it's me," he soothed, and Alex's jaw dropped open as she felt his grace tremble under the strain.

"C-Cas?" Sam struggled to sit up, his eyes wide as he looked up at the seraph. "You — you let Lucifer in? Why?"

Castiel held him steady, rising smoothly as Sam scrambled up. "I wanted to be of service to the fight," he murmured.

"And only Lucifer can beat her?" Scorn dragged Sam's voice down; with his back turned, he still hadn't noticed Alex's reappearance, and the young angel took the moment to draw in a shaky breath, her own wings trembling.

"I can't!" Castiel snapped, and his voice cracked as Lucifer's grace twisted violently within. "It's taking all my strength to keep him from killing you."

Alex's legs quivered at his owrds, and she stumbled forward. "What's going on?" Her wings curled forward and then immediately drew back as she climbed the stairs to the library, and she lingered in the doorway as Castiel looked up. "Cas — what's happening?"

"I'm sorry." Castiel's body trembled in an uncontrollable shutter, and he grabbed onto a nearby chair for support, his nails digging into the wood. "This is something that I had to do."

"No, Cas, you didn't!" Sam moved back, his eyes wide as he placed himself between the two angels. One arm went out, the sleeve of his shirt brushing against Alex's chest as if to keep her back; not that she had any intention to move closer. "You — you have to fight, Cas! Eject him now. We … we'll find another way to stop Amara."

Castiel shook his head, and his wings fell. "We need him to save Dean."

Alex felt Sam tremble slightly, but to his credit, his voice didn't waver. "You can't time travel."

"Only Lucifer can."

"L-Lucifer?" Alex stammered out the word, and her grace rose up, pressing against Castiel's — who would have thought that the seraph's grace would be so warm yet so thin in comparison to the archangel's tidal wave of power? She felt him react, a reluctant response, and she pushed deeper in search of Lucifer. She found it, wrapped in an intricate knot deep within the seraph. It struggled, writing violently, but the moment it brushed against Alex's, it paused. It fell still, as if stunned, and then it exploded. "Cas!"

The lights flickered, and Castiel's thin broken wings burst into color. "Cas? Cas is gone." Crimson wings stretched high, the feathers unfolding from thin air, and Lucifer rolled his head from side to side, a frown upon his face. "He won't be coming out for a _long_ time."

"Lucifer." Sam spit out the name, and he shifted back, his arm still stretched out to keep Alex safe behind him.

The action had Lucifer's gaze flickering back onto him, and he chuckled. "Oh, hey there, Sammy. Sorry about that." He rolled his shoulders, his wings twitching, and his eyes returned to Alex. "Well? Did you find the ingredients?"

"Y-Yeah." Why was her voice shaking? Alex cleared her throat to try and steady it, doing her best to ignore how Lucifer chuckled. "It's in the hall. What —" She turned her eyes up onto Sam, frowning at the blood staining his cheek. "What happened?" She reached up to touch the wound, her grace sliding in to heal the small cut.

"He tried to _kill_ me," Sam hissed.

"And I'm still tempted to do so," Lucifer joked; the humor didn't quite reach his cold eyes. Alex ducked under Sam's arm to put herself in front of him, and this time, the archangel's eyes flashed in amusement. "Don't look at me that way. He wasn't going to let me complete the spell — which is the _only_ way to get Dean back," he reminded Sam.

Alex heard the Winchester's teeth grind as he squared his jaw. "Why do you want Dean?" he challenged.

"I don't. I want the Hand of God." With a flick of Lucifer's grace, the ingredients that Alex had retrieved lay on the table in front of him. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bring both of them back." A snap of his fingers had the ingredients in the bowl, and his hand glowed as it hovered over the spell.

The air exploded around them, knocking the ground out from Alex's feet, and she stumbled, grabbing onto the table to steady herself. Sam wasn't so lucky, hitting the ground with a heavy _thud_. Lucifer was gone, leaving nothing but a faint trace of his grace, and Alex stared at the empty air for only a second before she turned to look down at Sam. "Hey. Are you okay?"

"What the fuck?" Sam pushed himself up into a sitting position, rubbing at his head. "Did you —" He cut off as wings fluttered, and Alex spun around to find Lucifer standing on the other side of the table, Dean at his side. "Dean!" Sam struggled to his feet. "That's not Cas!"

Dean paused, confusion darkening his eyes as he looked over at his brother, and his face paled as he turned towards Lucifer. The archangel wore a grin on his face, somehow almost sheepish in nature. "Cat's out!"

He grabbed Dean by the shoulder and tossed him across the table, and Alex jumped out of the way as the Winchester hit the ground and rolled towards the wall. "Hey!" Alex's wings flared out as she spun around to face Lucifer. "Don't hurt them!"

Her wings fell down when Lucifer's eyes turned onto her, and she felt Lucifer's grace wrap smoothly around her. "I won't," he promised. "I know what they mean to you, little one."

"You —" Dean gasped for air as he struggled to his feet. "Did you know about this? Alex —"

"Sh." Lucifer brought a finger up to his lips. "She didn't know anything about this. Did you?" Alex's mouth fell open, unsure how to respond to the lie, and the archangel grinned. "Yes, yes, it's actually me. You know, I feel a burden lifted. This whole 'deep cover' thing, it just wasn't — it wasn't terribly well thought out." He tapped the table with a roll of his eyes. "Donning this — this Cas mask? This grim face of angelic constipation? It's just … ugh." His wings shuddered.

Dean pushed himself to his feet, but Lucifer's grace spiraled past Alex to shove him up against the wall. "Why the faces, boys? You should be cheering." He bent down to pick up a cloth-wrapped item with a click of his tongue. "We have a common enemy. With this—" He held up the package, "— she will be no problem — don't." Grace rushed past her to yank Sam to his feet, and the Winchester cried out in alarm, a knife falling to the ground. "Blast me out of here, and she goes, too."

Alex spun around to see an angel sigil painted on the wall in blood, and her face paled as she looked over at Sam. The Winchester grunted in pain, suspended in the air, and Alex reached out to take his hand and guide him back down to the ground. "He's not going to hurt you, _is he_?" She hissed the last words over towards Lucifer, and the archangel's grace pulled back to let go of Sam.

"Oh come on, guys." He released Dean, and his wings fell down to his side as he started to unwrap the cloth. "If I wanted you dead … you'd be dead." From within the bundle he pulled out a shard of wood, the edges worn with age. "But, let's see how this works, hm?"

"No!" Dean threw himself forward, his face blank with horror, but Lucifer easily fended off the attack, sidestepping the blow and shoving Dean away; the gentle push sent the Winchester across the room.

Lucifer's fingers curled around the piece of wood, and Alex felt his grace flow inwards. She flinched away, expecting to feel the influx of power rush through her like a hurricane, but there was nothing. Lucifer's eyes snapped open, and the wood cracked as he squeezed it. "It's kicked!"

"Well." Dean struggled to his feet, and Lucifer's eyes snapped down onto him, his wings flaring up. "Who'd've thought that the Hand of God would turn out to be a one-hitter?"

The archangel scowled as he tossed the wood onto the table, and Alex moved forward to put herself between him and Dean, one hand on Lucifer's chest. "Don't hurt him," she begged. "Please, don't hurt them."

"I won't." Lucifer's wings fell down, and his hands came up to cup her cheeks, holding her face as his voice into a low murmur. "And you know that I'll never lie to you." Lucifer's hands fell away and he disappeared, his wings carrying him up and out of the bunker.

Silence fell upon the room, and Alex closed her eyes as she waited for Sam or Dean to speak. "Are you okay?" Sam stepped towards her, and Alex spun around, her eyes stretching wide as she searched for any sign of anger upon his face.

"Are you serious?" Dean immediately added, his glare moving between Alex and Sam. "Lucifer? _Lucifer_ is walking around riding shotgun in Cas' skull, and you didn't say anything?!"

"Dean, she didn't know." Sam jumped to defend her, and Alex's wings pulled in close. "Lucifer said that, remember? Why would he lie about that?"

"I don't know, maybe because he's the fucking devil," Dean spat. "How do you not know that your goddamn boyfriend is possessed by Lucifer?" He picked up the Hand of God with a dark scowl. "When did this happen, huh? Last month when we went down into hell? Cause that would make a hell of a lot of sense." He tossed the chunk of wood at Alex, and the angel fumbled the catch. "A few months ago, you and Cas couldn't stand to look at one another, and now you're all over each other — doesn't sound like a coincidence to me."

Alex's jaw trembled, searching for a response; part of her wanted to run, run as far away from the bunker as she possibly could, but she held her ground as Lucifer's grace shifted within her. "I — I don't know," she said again, letting her insistence crack her voice. "He just … he just changed, and I thought it had something to do with Crowley, or with Lucifer, but I didn't think …"

Sam's arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close as he scowled over at his brother. "She didn't know, Dean. Okay? Listen, I know you're mad, but don't take it out on her."

"Oh, come on, Sam. Lucifer, the guy whose been _in her head_ for — for how many years? — he just shows up and she hangs out with him without somehow realizing it?" Dean scoffed, and Alex's jaw clenched. "Did she tell you what the qareen showed her, Sam? Her darkest, deepest desire?"

"Dean, stop it." Alex felt Sam's muscles tense as he squared off with Dean, and Alex's wings drew in tight. "She just saved our lives." He straightened as Dean's mouth snapped shut, and Dean snatched the Hand of God out of Alex's hands as he stalked out of the library. Alex watched him go, only turning to look up at Sam when his shoulders slumped.

"Sam …"

"Don't." Sam slumped up against the table, his chin dropping to his chest. "Look, I … let's just move on, okay? You're here, Lucifer's … he's gone, for now."

"I'm sorry this happened, Sam." Alex leaned up against the back of a chair, thankful for the support. "I mean, n-not just Lucifer, but the Hand of God … all that work for nothing."

"Yeah." Sam heaved a heavy sigh, and the air around him prickled. "You … you trust him, don't you? Lucifer," he explained when Alex's brow scrunched in confusion. "I-I mean, you seemed surprised to see him, but that was it."

 _I was surprised to see Castiel_. Alex kept the revelation to herself, choosing instead to nod in agreement. "I wasn't scared," she admitted. "He could have killed you two, but he didn't because of me. Read into it how you want, but there's something comforting in that."

"Maybe." Sam didn't sound as confident as she did, and he shifted against the table. "Look, I'm sorry about Cas —"

"Don't be." Alex flicked her wing angrily. "There's nothing to be sorry about. He chose to let Lucifer in knowing the consequences. I — I mean, even for him, that's a dumb move, right? Especially knowing how … complicated things were with me and Lucifer. And with Amara being loose," she quickly added when Sam's eyes flickered onto her. "Like you said … she's trouble enough on her own."

"Cas must really think that he can stop Amara." With a sigh, Sam pushed himself off of the table. "I'm going to check on Dean, see if he needs anything. You … should probably give him some space."

"Yeah. You read my mind." Alex watched him go, and she finally let her wings droop in exhaustion and disappointment. Fuck. That hadn't gone anything like she was hoping — of course, she had been hoping that this never would have happened. Her grace instinctively went down to probe at Lucifer's, searching for comfort, and she pulled away with a sharp scowl. No, not today. Not right now.

"Well, that was awkward." Lucifer appeared at her side, propped up on the table, and Alex spun around, eyes wide. "They're not around," he promised at the sight of her open mouth, and crimson wings ushered her closer in. "You don't have to worry."

"Well, I am." Alex kept her voice at a low hiss. "Dean already suspects me, and I don't know why Sam doesn't." Her shoulders slumped and she leaned into his arms, pressing her face into his shoulder. "They're going to hate me."

"Sh." Lips pressed up against her temple, cold and soothing. "Sam's blind when it comes to you. He'll protect little ol' you for mean, suspicious Dean." His wings wrapped tightly around her, a soft, heavy blanket, and Alex couldn't help the soft noise that escaped from her throat at the feeling.

Lucifer's words repeated in her mind, and she hesitated, confused by the claim. "I think …" she finally began, "I think we should probably keep our distance for a while. If they catch us …"

She suppressed a shiver at the thought, and Lucifer's breath stirred her hair. "Tell you what. If it makes you feel better, I'll be a little bit more careful about when I come and go. How hard can it be to avoid Dumb and Dumber?" Footsteps echoed through the hall, and Lucifer's nose dragged down her cheek as he pulled back, his wings falling away. "I'll see you tomorrow, little lamb."

...

* * *

 **I think it's time that I take a short hiatus. Between working full time and my new kitten (just got him yesterday yay), I'm falling behind in a lot of things - I still haven't finished the final chapter in this season, and it's been in progress for a month haha. Hopefully this short break will give me the time to finally piece it together.**

 **I will be back Monday the 26th!**


	37. Beyond the Mat

**Alright, I'm back! Thanks for the break - it was nice to get a bit ahead, even if I'm *still* stuck on the last chapter ... I'll get it done eventually.**

* * *

 **...**

 **January 28th, 2016**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** lex padded out of her bedroom, rubbing at her eyes as she started down the hall. Her wings dragged lazily behind her, loose and pliant with sleep, and her bare feet moved silently against the tile. The clock in her room had read a little past nine in the morning, and her grace snuck out in search of the Winchesters, but it felt distracted; she could still feel Lucifer's touch on her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The feeling pulled at her, willing her back to her bed, but the angel pushed on.

Both brothers were in the library, seated at the table, and Alex's eyes immediately fell down onto the open bottle of aspirin that sat in between them. "Fun night last night, huh?" She circled around to drop down into the chair next to Sam, her grey eyes flickering playfully. "I didn't hear you guys get back."

"Yeah well, we were going to say hey, but you sounded pretty preoccupied." Dean lifted his coffee to his lips, and Alex blinked in surprise. Lucifer had come by last night — was Dean making a joke, or had he actually heard him?

"Oh yeah." She forced an easy grin, leaning back in her chair as she met Dean's gaze. "I decided to try and get some sleep last night and didn't want your drunken asses bothering me, so I put some shitty romcom on. Figured that out of everything would keep you out, and put me to sleep. Win-win. Why?" Her grin didn't waver, but her gaze sharpened. "What did you think was going on?"

She ended with a wink, refusing to show the relief as Dean chuckled, seemingly accepting of her story. "Dunno. Thought you might be trying a new form of stress relief. Works for me," he added when Alex rolled her eyes. "Anyways." He dismissed the conversation with a wave of his hand, his attention turning back down onto his laptop that lay open in front of him. "You ever heard of Top Notch Wrestling?"

Alex shook her head, but Sam nodded, finally speaking up. "Yeah," he agreed. "That was those, uh, wrestling shows that Dad took us to when we were kids."

"Right. Came across an obituary last night." The humor left Dean's face, and his fingers drummed on the wooden tabletop. "Larry 'The Hangman' Lee died."

The significance was lost on Alex, but she looked over at Sam to find sadness creeping across his features. "Oh no. Wasn't he, uh …"

"He was Dad's favorite." Dean nodded, and he took a sip of his coffee with a sigh. Alex tipped her head, and he explained, "Okay. So you know how in wrestling, all of these people have their own thing, right?" The question was met with a blank stare, but Dean ignored it with a laugh. "Lee's thing was that he would hang his opponent. Anytime that noose would come out, Dad would be on his feet. It was one of the few times I ever saw him actually happy."

"That's … kind of morbid. And that's a lot coming from me." Alex reached over to take Sam's cup of coffee from him, sipping the hot, acrid liquid.

"It was just an act," Sam promised, and Alex reluctantly relinquished the cup when he reached out to take it back. "And yeah, I do remember that."

"Well, the, uh, the funeral's less than a day's drive. I say we go to pay our respects." Dean shut his laptop and slammed down the rest of his coffee; from where she sat, Alex could pick up hints of whiskey among the vapors.

She glanced over at Sam to find the Winchester frowning. "Uh … you don't think our plates are a little full?" His hands swept out, motioning to the vast array of books that decorated the tables around them. "I mean, it's bad out there, Dean."

"Yeah, Sam. You think I don't know that? We've done nothing but mainline lore for a week, okay? We've got jack shit on another Hand of God or on Amara, and we've got even less on how to save Cas."

The last sentence was accompanied by a glare towards Alex, and the young angel's wings flittered in frustration. "You say that as if he wants to be saved," she retorted. "If you ask me, Cas is going to have to lie in the grave he dug for himself until we have Amara sorted out." Dean's glare darkened into a full scowl, and she folded her arms defensively across her chest. "Who's a bigger threat right now, Dean: Lucifer or Amara? Lucifer made it clear he wants to kick the Darkness back to where she came — I say we let him and then deal with him after he's served his purpose."

"Yeah, you would say that —" There was a dull thud, and Dean cut off with a wince; one look at Sam's pursed lips made it clear that he had probably kicked at his brother under the table. "Look …" Dean drew in a deep breath before he continued again. "I'm burnt, okay? And I need — _we_ need to get out of here. Let's go stretch our legs."

Sam heaved a weary sigh, and Alex drummed her knuckles upon the table. "I think that sounds like a good idea," she decided. "Not to be rude, but I'm getting tired of this … this _tomb_. It's not good for us to be here for long periods of time." She paused, waiting for Sam to disagree, but when the hunter merely shrugged, she pushed her chair back to stand. "Great, glad we're in agreement. I guess I'm going to go get changed, then."

"Sounds good." The animosity in Dean's voice had vanished, and he turned to watch her go. "We'll meet you up at the Impala." Alex waved a hand to show that she had heard as she jumped down the library stairs, and her wings shook out as she started down the hall back towards her room.

 **Brimson, Missouri**

 **T** he grey sky drizzled down thin, wet snow, and Alex lifted her wings up above her head to keep her hair dry. She stepped closer to Sam to avoid the wind, shoving her hands into her pockets with a frown. "We're not too late, right?" she asked, glancing down at her phone as she looked around the exterior of the funeral home; the parking lot was no more than half-full, and several of the cars were ladened with snow, suggesting they had been there since the morning.

"Obit said 4pm." Sam pulled open the front door, letting Dean and Alex through before he followed. "Must not be a big service."

Alex shrugged, and she fell in step at Dean's side as they entered the visitation room. A casket lay by the far wall, the wooden panels obscured by an American flag draped over the top. Alex's eyes turned upwards, passing over the red and gold damask wallpaper before dropping down onto the mourners, numbering only a little more than twenty. "Dude, check it out." Dean elbowed his brother, his voice a low whisper laced with barely-contained excitement. "It's 'The Scream' Casey Lyons. And there's Wrecking Ball Calhoon," he added before Sam could respond, his finger pointing to a darkly-clad man on the other side of the room. "And — wow. The Brooklyn Beast?"

"What happened to them all?" Sam watched the mourners talk quietly among themselves. "They're all … broken."

Alex frowned, ready to speak up, but Dean broke in before she could even start. "Dude!" He tugged on Sam's arm, his face alight with childlike exhilaration. "Dude. It's Gunnar fucking Lawless!"

Alex followed his gaze to a tall, broad-shouldered man who had just stepped up to the casket. She heard Sam snort, amused at his brother's exclamation. "Huh. Groupie much?"

"Shut up. Should I go say hi? I should go say hi — I'm gonna go say hi."

Dean barely finished his thoughts before he was hurrying across the floor towards the wrestler. Sam gave a heavy roll of his eyes. "Lawless was his favorite when we were kids," he explained when Alex tipped her head. "You, uh … maybe you should go with him and make sure he doesn't say anything embarrassing. I'll talk with the others, see what I can dig up."

"You want me to babysit Dean? Sure — sounds like the good old times." Alex flicked her wings in farewell, leaving Sam to his own devices as she made her way back over to Dean.

The Winchester was standing in front of the wrestler; despite being nearly as tall as the older man, Dean looked up at him as if Gunnar Lawless towered over him. "Hi, s-sir," he was saying, excitement tripping up his tongue. "I, uh, saw you … saw you standing over here and told my brother that I — I should come over and say hi … so I came over and, uh …" Caught rambling, Dean forced a grin and stuck out his hand. "Hi."

The man smiled as he shook Dean's hand. "Gunnar Lawless," he said.

"Oh, I know." Dean's grin grew wider. "I … I gotta tell you. I … worshipped you growing up."

"Thanks." Gunnar's eyes dropped down to where their hands were still locked, Dean's fingers squeezing tight in a vice-like grip. "You know," he joked, "I plan on keeping that hand." He chuckled when Dean let go with a mumbled apology, and his hand swung over to Alex. "Nice to meet you."

Alex returned the greeting, and Dean let out a small laugh. "You know," he began, "when I was … when I was ten, I got my first B&E from borrowing some family's pay-per-view to so I could watch the cage match between you and the Tower of Power."

Gunnar glanced over at Alex, his smile faltering slightly when he realized that Dean wasn't joking. "I'm not sure how I feel about contributing to your juvenile delinquency," he began, "but I appreciate it all the same."

"Yeah, uh … you were were robbed, by the way."

Lawless grinned. "You bet your ass I was." He turned to look down at Alex, and he asked, "What did you do, steal a car to go to my match against the Witch Doctor?"

He laughed, and Dean quickly joined in, leaving Alex confused as to who this 'Witch Doctor' was. "I never really watched wrestling, sorry," she apologized. A quick glance over her shoulder showed that Sam was standing on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with a blonde woman, and she added, "I'm sorry to hear about your friend, though. Were you two close?"

"Hangman and I traveled together for — how long as it been? Almost thirty years." Gunnar Lawless sighed, the humor fading back into dull grief. "Sure, times have been getting harder — it seems that less and less people come to the shows these days — but for him to kill himself?"

"Wait." Dean's eyes widened, and he paused for a second to regain control over his surprise. "He … that wasn't in the obituary."

Gunnar shrugged. "You know how it is. The family didn't want it advertised, and most of us … well, most of the boys still can't believe it." He slowly shook his head before he let out a sigh. "You know, we're having a memorial show later tonight at Trenton Hall. It's open to the public if you want to go."

He clapped Dean on the shoulder as he walked away, and Alex snorted once he was out of earshot. "Dude, calm down. You're literally shaking." She moved so she was standing in front of him, her grey eyes slipping past him to land on Sam. He was crossing the room, and his face momentarily turned onto the casket as he stopped at Dean's side.

"Poor son of a bitch," Dean muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets, and Alex sidestepped so he could look down at the flag-covered casket.

"Yeah," Sam quietly agreed. "You know, uh, word is …"

"Yeah, we heard." Dean fell quiet for a moment before he shook off his thoughts. "Hey, you know they're having a memorial show tonight? I know how you're itching to get back, but, uh …"

"We should go to it." Sam shoved his hands into his coat pockets as he spoke, and when Dean's eyebrows lifted, he shrugged. "Why not? World's still gonna be screwed tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah." Dean's eyes momentarily darkened before he cracked a smile. "Alright, well, why don't we grab some grub beforehand? We should have enough time." He clapped Alex on the back, and the angel's wings flittered at the impact. "This'll be your first Top Notch fight. It's going to be _awesome_."

He stepped away from the casket and headed for the door, closely followed by Sam, and Alex let her eyes move across the wrestlers in the room, their heads bowed and shoulders slumped. "Yeah," she softly agreed. "Looks like it's gonna be awesome."

 **A** lex followed Sam and Dean into the makeshift arena, her wings drawn in close as a man tried to squeeze past her in the aisle. Metal folding chairs arranged in four rows surrounded the elevated padded ring. The small room reminded Alex of a high school gym, but the floors were concrete, and the LED lights above her head flickered. Maybe this was what Gunnar had meant by 'hard times.' The woman Sam had been talking to at the wake stood up in the ring; having shed her jacket and jeans, she now wore a pair of black leather pants and a tight black top that looked more like a corset than a shirt. She was speaking to one of the referees, clearly marked by his black-and-white striped shirt, and Alex watched how her lips moved urgently as she spoke. "Here we go." Three chairs sat empty in the front row, and Dean claimed the aisle seat with a grin. "Look at this!"

Sam sat down next to him, leaving the far seat for Alex, and she dropped down into her chair as Sam looked around. "You know, I remember the Top Notch shows being grander," he said, his voice lifted to be heard above the crowded clamor. "You know, top-notch."

Dean snorted at the pun, and he lifted his plastic cup up, almost sloshing beer over the top. "Yeah, well, you drink enough, it'll be just like old times." He took a sip, and his eyes flitted over to the ring as the blonde woman slipped under the ring ropes in front of them. She waved in their direction, smiling at Sam as she walked past, and Dean turned to his brother with a grin. "Rio?" he teased. "You dog."

"Who?" Alex leaned forward to look over at Dean.

"Rio Archer." Dean's wide grin split his face, and Alex watched as a faint blush grew on Sam's cheeks. "She used to manage Superbomb Sanchez back in the day. She's still pretty hot, huh?"

He elbowed Sam in the ribs, almost causing Sam to spill his beer. Sam rolled his eyes with a scowl in Dean's direction before he looked over at Alex. "It's nothing like that," he promised, shifting his beer to his other hand as he added, "We met at the wake. She's nice."

"Did you tell her you used to have a poster of her over your bed when you were a kid?"

"No!" Sam rolled his eyes, and he shifted in his small seat as he searched for a new avenue of conversation. "So, get this — a guy at the wake told me they're only making twenty-five bucks tonight."

"That's it?" Dean frowned when Sam nodded. "Now, that hardly seems worth it. Yeah, think about it. Town after town, putting your ass on the line for next to nothing. No money, no glory. Wow."

"Dude — you literally just described our lives." Alex slid forward to sit on the edge of her seat, leaning past Sam so Dean could hear her. "You realize that, right?"

Dean's lips pursed as he thought, but his contemplation was interrupted by a man sliding into the seats behind them. The movement jostled the Winchesters, and Alex turned in her seat as he apologized, "Whoa! Excuse me, fellas." He dropped down into his seat, revealing a young boy, no older than fourteen. "This is gonna be great," the man told his son, carefully juggling two beers.

"Yeah," the boy distantly agreed, and Alex turned back around to face the front.

"Gotta love some rassling, am I right?" The man suddenly leaned forward, his head level with Sam and Dean. Sam nodded in agreement, and the stranger laughed. "Beer's cheap, kid's entertained … parenting." He leaned back, his voice lowering as he reminded his son, "Remember, don't tell Mom how many I've had."

Sam scoffed. "Now _that_ brings me back."

"You want to try and _not_ ruin one of the nicest things Dad ever did for us, please?" Dean took a sip from his beer with a thin scowl. "Thank you."

Sam opened his mouth, ready to respond, but Rio's reappearance had him remaining silent. Alex watched the woman walk past them to take a seat on the other side of the room, the spotlight turning onto her as she tapped on the mounted microphone. A cheer rose among the crowd, and Rio lifted a hand up into the air. "Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Hellrazor!"

The curtains next to her swung open as a man pushed his way through, dressed in a black and red outfit. He reached up and over his head to draw back the red hoodie, and Alex rolled her eyes at the two red plush horns that were revealed. Hellrazor, the devil. How clever. Her wingtip flicked, and she unconsciously pushed against Lucifer's grace. _Where are you?_ Lucifer's voice echoed through her head, as clear as day.

A cheer was rising again through the crowd, fiercer than before, and Rio's hand swung over to the other side of the room, pointed straight towards where Alex sat. "And now, ladies and gentlemen," she began, "put your hands together for Gunnar Lawless!"

Smoke began pouring through the seats, and Alex twisted to watch Lawless enter behind her. His blue wrestling singlet was partially covered by a white leather jacket, complete with long western-style fringes. "Yeah!" Dean leapt to his feet and threw his fists into the air, and Alex rolled her eyes again. "Yeah!" Dean glanced back at them, and his lips pursed into a frown to find both Alex and Sam still seated. "Hey. Get up. Show some respect."

Sam rose, and Alex reluctantly did the same, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets as she watched Gunnar make his way down the aisle. He paused halfway, ripping the white glove off of his right hand. "Who's getting it?" he yelled, waving the fringed glove high above his head. "Who's getting it?"

"Oh, oh, remember this?" Dean's voice was barely audible over the clamor, and Alex lifted her grace to hear him better as he tugged excitedly on his brother's sleeve. "This is where he takes the glove off and gives it to some kid before the match!" His cheering grew even louder, and this time Sam joined it. Gunnar pointed at Dean, the glove in his outstretched hand. "Oh, yeah!" Dean cheered. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!"

He reached out as Gunnar approached, only to have his hand fall as the wrestler handed the glove to the boy behind Dean. Dean's shoulders visible fell, disappointed, and Sam laughed. "Maybe next time," he teased, thumping his brother on the back, and he dropped down into his seat as Gunnar made his way to the ring.

"It's alright," Dean muttered, taking his seat, and Alex quickly followed suit. "I'm not a child. It's fine." He picked his beer back up off of the ground with sullen frown that said otherwise. Lawless climbed into the ring, and Alex slumped in her chair as Lucifer's grace twisted, irritated at her lack of reply. _Sorry_ , she apologized. _We're at some sort of … wrestling match in Missouri. What about you?_

 _I'm in hell._ The response was almost snarled out, and Alex frowned even as her eyes drifted upwards to the ring as the match began. For a moment, the two wrestlers danced around each other, looking for an easy opening. Lawless landed the first blow, a solid hit that sent Hellrazor stumbling back, and Alex almost missed Lucifer's question as the two locked up in a tight grapple. _When can I come by again? Demons are boring._

 _Not for a while_. "Lawless up on the ropes, now," she heard Rio announced, and Alex watched how Sam and Dean cheered, flinching sympathetically in time with the punches. _Sorry, Luce, but Sam and Dean already suspect enough. You shouldn't have even come last night._

In the ring, Hellrazor grabbed Lawless by the shoulders and threw him at the ropes. They bent beneath his weight, and Lawless fell through and hit the ground in front of Dean with a grunt. "Get up!" Sam leaned forward, fully engrossed in the fight. "Get up, buddy!"

"Come on, man!" Dean added above the crowd's chants. Lawless pushed himself to his feet, making a show of the struggle, and Hellrazor leapt down from the ring with a grunt, scooping up an empty metal chair and lifting it high above his head, ready to strike. Dean's eyes stretched wide, and Lawless paused only long enough to wink at him before he spun around to rip the chair out of Hellrazor's hands. The crowd screamed in anticipation as the two struggled, and with a shout, Lawless heaved his opponent back into the ring. He followed a second later, but Hellrazor caught him before he got back to his feet, pulling him into a tight headlock.

 _The Winchesters won't find out_ , Lucifer promised, and Alex forced her eyes away from the fight to focus on his voice. _And if they do … who cares? Who's more important? Them or me?_

Alex glanced over at Sam and Dean; both brothers were shouting at the top of their lungs. "Get out of it!" Sam yelled, and when Lawless ripped himself free, Sam pumped his fist up into the air with a loud, "Gunnar!" He glanced in Alex's direction, and his gaze wavered as he did a double take, a grin growing on his face to find she was staring at him. "What?"

"Uh, nothing. Sorry." Alex turned her eyes back onto the ring in front of her. Lucifer's question hung in her mind, demanding an answer, but she did her best to brush it aside. The crowd around her chanted Gunnar's name as the wrestler strut around the ring. Hellrazor leaned against the ropes, catching his breath as he watched Lawless warily.

Gunnar surged forward; Alex wasn't sure what happened next, but then Gunnar had Hellrazor in a headlock. "Up and over!" Dean jumped to his feet, joined by half the crowd, and Alex leaned forward in her seat to watch. "Up and over!"

Lawless grabbed his opponent's neck and bent forward, yanking Hellrazor off of the ground over his shoulder. The crowd screamed as Hellrazor's back hit the mat with a heavy thud, and the referee rushed forward. "One, two, three!" The crowd counted with him, exploding into a roar as soon as the last number had been said. The Winchesters were on their feet, cheering at the top of their lungs, and even Alex cracked a smile as Gunnar leapt up and pumped his fist into the air.

"I gotta drain the dragon," Alex heard the man behind them say, and she turned her head to watch him go.

"Hey." Dean leaned in front of Sam to tap Alex on the knee, motioning to her feet, and the angel rose. "First Top Notch show — what did you think?"

"It was … interesting." Alex watched as Lawless helped Hellrazor to his feet, and she shrugged when they had exited the ring. "Definitely the first wrestling match I've ever seen. But I don't know. I feel like I fight too much on a daily basis to really get into it."

"Understandable," Sam agreed, but Dean's face just fell.

A shout came from outside, sharp with fear, and Alex's head snapped up. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Dean looked around, but over the clamor of the crowd, it was impossible for him to hear. The shout came again, and Alex pushed herself to her feet, ignoring how Sam and Dean tried to get her to explain. She hurried out of the building, weaving through the crowds as her wings flittered in confusion.

There. A noise came from the left, a faint rustle of leaves, and Alex followed the sound off of the sidewalk and into the darkness. A large truck lay off to the side, situated beside a half-lit light pole, and Alex's grace prickled warily at the heavy smell of blood. "Are you —" She circled around to the back of the truck to find a body laying on the grass, and her shoulders fell. "You are." His shirt had been ripped open, and deep lacerations decorated his bare chest. "Great." Alex let her eyes wander up to the victim's face, and her wings flicked as she recognized him as the man who had sat behind her. " _Great._ "

She crouched down beside the body with a frown, her eyes drawn to the knife wounds. They clearly weren't random — the slashes, though hasty, were deliberate. Alex dug her phone out of her pocket to take a picture, but a gasp from the shadows had her looking up. "Shit." A woman stood just beyond the edge of the light, and Alex stretched out a hand in her direction. "Wait, I —" The woman took off, and Alex cursed again, snapping the picture before she jumped to her feet. "Wait!"

The shout was in vain, and Alex stowed her phone with a scowl. That meant cops were on their way. Her eyes flickered off to the side, towards the parking lot where the Impala lay. _Great._

She hurried over to the car, unlocking the trunk with her grace. A wooden box lay inside, sitting on top of the false bottom, and she threw the lid open to shuffle through the IDs inside. Rangers, CDC … FBI, FBI, FBI. Alex snatched up the three badges and glanced down at the names. Roark and Roussimoff for Sam and Dean. She shoved them into her back pocket before glancing down at hers: Rebecca Bartowski. Alex huffed in amusement at the name; it had been a long time since that pseudonym had seen the light of day.

Alex slammed the trunk shut and hurried back towards the tent, wings pressing tightly against her back as sirens screamed in the distance. Her grace easily located Sam and Dean, and she wove through the crowd to find them. "Here." She pressed the badges into their hands. "We've got a body, cops are on their way."

"What?" The Winchesters' surprise was simultaneous, and Alex cast an uneasy look over her shoulder as Dean added, "Pip, what did you do?"

" _I_ didn't do anything. He was dead when I found him. He …" Alex looked over at the young teenage boy that sat behind them; his head was lifted, craning through the throng in search of his dad. "He's his dad."

She mouthed the last sentence, jerking her head back towards the teen. The crowd was growing more agitated; Alex heard whispers of 'body,' circulating through the room. The sirens had stopped, residing just outside the building, and Alex turned to watch two officers step into the room, accompanied by woman who had seen Alex beside the body. "Excuse me." Alex stepped away from Sam and Dean, her grace curling around Lucifer's as she wove her way through the crowd. The woman's eyes lit up at the sight of her, and she tapped one of the officer's arm as Alex dug around in her pocket for her badge. "Officers," she greeted. "Thanks for getting here so quickly."

She watched as the two men exchanged looks, and she momentarily let her eyes drift over to the dark-haired woman. "Ma'am, would you please come with us?" one of the officers asked, motioning towards the exit, and Alex's wings twitched as she felt Sam stop behind her.

"Good idea," she agreed, turning slightly to look back at Sam. "Why don't you go talk to the men outside, Agent? I'm just going to have a quick word with these gentlemen here."

Sam nodded, and Alex followed the two police officers towards the door. The night was alight with the red and blue flashing lights, and Alex watched as a gurney rolled past them towards the truck where the body lay. "Ma'am," the officer began, "Ms. Port said she saw you standing over the body."

"She did." Alex pulled out her badge, her eyes momentarily slipping by the officers to watch Sam make his way past. "My name is Rebecca Bartowski, I'm with the FBI. I heard a scream coming from outside, and I found that man dead. He has a son," she added, nodding back towards the door. "I saw the two of them together during the show."

The two men exchanged looks, and Alex stuffed her badge back into her pocket as one hurried away. The gurney wheeled past again, this time topped with a black body bag, and Sam walked at its side, deep in conversation with the man pushing it. "Alright, we'll need to take your official statement and call to confirm with your home office," the remaining officer began.

"Sure thing," Alex lied. "I can swing by the station sometime tomorrow morning, then I can give you my badge number and the number of my superior —"

She cut off when the man chuckled. "We've got the number to the home office back in the captain's office. Not to be rude, but we had a brush with a couple of impersonators a few months back, so we've upped our security a bit." He dug a small black notepad out of his pocket, quickly followed by a pen. "I'll just jot down your name and badge and give them a call when I get back."

"Sure." Alex shifted, thankful for the darkness that hid her face; she was sure it had paled. "Rebecca — two 'c's — Bartowski, badge number is 205616. You really should wait until morning to call," she added, praying the comment didn't sound too hasty. "I'm technically not on-duty today, and they hate after hour calls about off-duty agents. You know how it is, right?" She ended with an apologetic smile, hoping her lie rang true in his ears.

To her relief, the officer nodded. "Alright, well, I'll have someone call first thing in the morning," he promised. "How about you come down around nine for that statement? Shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes."

"Nine," Alex repeated. "Got it." The officer walked away, and Alex rolled her eyes after him. Great.

Sam and Dean stood off to the side, and Alex crossed the parking lot to join them. "Well, this badge is toast," she muttered. "Cops are going to call the FBI directly." She stifled a sigh, shoving her hands deep into her jacket pockets. "Anyways. You guys see those fucking cuts on the body?"

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "They looked deliberate. Almost … ritualistic."

Alex nodded, but Dean merely scoffed. "What, you think this might be a case?" Scornful disbelief lined his voice, but when Sam shrugged, he sighed. "Okay, fine. I'll stay here, shake a few trees. You wanna …"

"I'll go back and look into that symbol," Sam said, and Dean nodded.

Two sets of eyes turned onto Alex, and the angel shrugged, unsure who to side with. "I'll stay here," she finally decided. "We can cover my ground with the two of us."

"Awesome." Dean tossed Sam the keys to the Impala with a grin. "Keep us updated." He walked back into the building and, with a shrug, Alex followed. The interior was void of people, bar her and Dean, and Dean paused. "Hello?" he called. "FBI. I have a few questions …"

"They evacuated this place pretty quickly, huh?" Alex came to a stop beside him with a shrug. "Guess a body out back really gets people moving." Dean didn't respond, and Alex followed his gaze over to the deserted ring. Somehow, without even seeing his face, she knew exactly what he was thinking. "Do it. I dare you."

Dean needed no more encouragement — three steps carried him to the ring, and at the last second he twisted, bringing his legs up and rolling onto his back under the ropes. He bounced to his feet with a grin, his eyes traversing the ring before he threw himself at the ropes. He turned so his back hit them, and they stretched back before snapping into place, sending Dean flying back towards the center of the ring. "Come on." Dean awkwardly clambered through the ropes to drop down onto the ground. "Give it a shot."

He rolled back into the ring, and Alex followed, her wings drawn in close as she rolled onto the padded mat. She used her momentum to push herself to her feet, wings balancing her as she looked around. Dean was already up, bouncing eagerly from foot to foot on the other side of the ring; their eyes locked, and he beckoned her forward. "What?" Alex let out a huff of laughter. "You want to spar?"

"Yeah — come on." Dean waved her closer, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. "Like a real Top Notch show."

"Dean, I think we both know our sparring is _nothing_ like one of these shows." However, Alex removed her angel blade from her jeans and set it on the edge of the mat. "Alright, let's go." She lifted her grace up, letting it seep out to offset her blindness as she drew her hands in defensively. Dean didn't move, so Alex shifted forward to strike the first blow. The punch went wide as Dean suddenly surged forward, ducking low to wrap his arms around her waist. Alex hesitated, immediately dismissing the instinct to throw her knee up into the Winchester's face. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and let Dean take her down, wrapping her legs around his waist to put him in her guard. She moved her hands from his neck to the back of his head, effectively keeping him from rearing back up. "That was cheap," she hissed in his ear.

Dean planted his hands on either side of her ribs, his fingers splayed as he tried to push himself up. "It's a real move," he defended.

"Be glad I didn't break your nose." Alex released one hand from Dean's head to knock away an arm, simultaneously kicking out his leg with a knee. Off balance, Dean fell to the side. His hand escaped Alex's grasp, planting against the mat to catch himself, and Alex cursed. Her grace rose within her, and she pushed herself up, physically forcing Dean off of her.

"Hey!" Dean shouted his surprise as he hit the mat. "You want to talk about cheap shots …" He trailed off as his gaze slid past her, and Alex froze as she felt Lucifer's grace twitch. _No. He wouldn't have._

She turned, and her wings fell in relief to see Rio standing among the chairs, her arms folded in amusement. "Nice moves." She made her way down the aisle to stand beside the ring with a grin towards Alex. "You fight pretty good for only having one eye. You two would make a good team."

Dean grinned at the compliment, but he quickly suppressed it as he dismounted from the ring, tripping in his haste and almost falling off of the ropes. "I'm fine," he promised, catching his balance, and he adjusted his jacket as he reached into his pocket. "Uh, Agent Roussimoff, FBI," he introduced, and Alex slid out from under the ropes on the other side of the mat, tucking her angel blade away as she circled around to stand at Dean's side. She showed off her own badge, stating her name alongside Dean.

Rio looked between the two of them, her eyes momentarily squinting in confusion. "You two were at the wake, weren't you?"

"I was — we were," Dean agreed. "Yeah, and then a body drops, so back on the clock. Did you know the deceased?"

He tucked his badge back into his jacket, and Alex did the same, sliding it deep into her pocket with a flick of her wings. Rio's eyes widened. "Oh. I … I sold him some tickets," she admitted. "He has a kid, right?"

Alex nodded. "Yeah, he did."

She watched as Rio's face twisted in sorrow and fear. "Wow. Maybe my boys are right," she murmured. "Maybe we really are cursed."

"Cursed?" Alex exchanged a look with Dean, her wings twitching curiously at the suggestion. "What makes them think that you're cursed?"

"Back in Shreveport, our first stop on the tour, a maintenance guy found a body stashed in the dumpster behind the VFW, and now this."

Dean's lips pursed tightly at the news, and he cleared his throat before he spoke. "Could I get a list of your whole crew?" he asked. "Wrestlers, roadies, anybody you roll with?"

"Oh, we use locals for all the setups and concessions. I can only afford to travel my boys." Rio let out a heavy sigh, and her shoulders fell in exhaustion and defeat. "If you're looking for them, I'd try the nearest bar.I know that's where I'll be."

She walked away, leaving Alex and Dean standing alone in the concrete room. The nearest bar," Dean repeated. "Looks like we're heading there next." He glanced over at Alex, adding, "You still up for coming along?" Alex's answer was a quick grin, and she shoved her hands into her pockets as she followed Dean out of the room.

 **T** he nearest bar was a four minute walk from Trenton Hall where the memorial show had been hosted. In theory, it didn't seem that long, but by the time Alex stepped through the dingy bar doors, her fingertips felt numb; a quick look at Dean showed that he wasn't faring any better. The bar was dark, and it was crowded. Alex glanced at the faces around her, trying to place any of them from the wake or show. To her right, two men were helping a young woman up onto the pool table; her hips moved in time with the music as she drunkenly danced along. To her left, a man poured tequila directly into a girl's mouth, and just beyond that sat Gunnar Lawless, staring down at his half-empty glass. He had changed out of his wrestling outfit, now wearing jeans and a tan leather jacket.

Alex nudged Dean in the arm, nodding off towards Gunnar. Her eyes flickered over to where Dean's gaze had lingered to find Rio sitting at a high-top table. The woman nodded, and Alex reciprocated the gesture with an upward flick of her chin before joining Dean and Gunnar at the bar. "Hey," Dean greeted, dropping down into the seat of Gunnar's left.

"Uh, hey." The wrestler looked up, surprised by their appearance. "It's, uh … it's Dean, right? And Alex," he added when Alex sat down on his right. "You guys enjoy the show?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean agreed. "The show was great. _You_ were great," he added after a second's pause. "After the show, not so much, but, um …"

"Yeah, I heard." Gunnar waved the female bartender over, and two more drinks were poured, one for Dean, and one for Alex. "It's a damn shame."

He and Dean both threw back their shots and, determined not to be outdone, Alex quickly did the same. "That's, uh, that's actually why we're here," Dean admitted, pulling out his badge, and Alex copied him, clicking her nails on the empty glass to draw Gunnar's attention onto her.

The wrestler's eyes widened ever so slightly, a barely perceptible gesture of — surprise? Fear? Alex couldn't tell — but his voice remained as steady as ever. "Kinda buried the lead on that one, huh?" He chuckled as he motioned the bartender back over to refill their drinks.

Dean mumbled out his thanks, and Alex cleared her throat. "So, we heard that this wasn't the first death on this tour," she began.

Gunnar merely shrugged, unconcerned by her statement. "It's a rough crowd," he reminded. "Inside the ring and out." He suddenly shrugged back his jacket and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a long, faded scar on his right bicep. "In '92, I'm leaving the ring and a damn reprobate goes at me with a broken beer bottle."

"Wow." Dean leaned back in his seat to roll up his left pant leg. An old wound marred the pale flesh, the edges still not yet meeting despite its age. "A couple years ago a, uh, _perp_ got the drop on me, decided to take a chunk out of my leg as a keepsake."

Gunnar chuckled and held out his right hand, waggling his fingers slightly. "See these right here? Far as I can bend them thanks to ol' Jonah Rancid and all four hundred pounds of him dropping down on me." His fingers flexed, curling in a little before he gave up. Dean chuckled, and Gunnar turned in his seat to look over at Alex. "What about you? You look like you've got a story or two."

Alex forced a half-grin as she reached up to touch her blinded eye. "Just some maniacal asshat with a sharp knife and beginner's luck."

Gunnar flashed his teeth in a sharp smile. "Tell me about it. I've been beat up, stabbed, roughed up. But I'll be damned if I didn't always get back up. One think I learned, you gotta keep on grinding no matter what's thrown your way."

Dean grinned. "Damn, you're awesome."

"Tell that to my ex-wives." Gunnar reached for his drink as Dean's phone rang, and Alex leaned forward to look past Lawless in time to watch Dean mouth _Sam_. He got up and walked away, leaving Alex sitting alone with Gunnar. Unsure what else to do, she pulled her drink closer and let her gaze wander around the bar.

"Yo! Sweetheart!" The wrestler who had been pouring tequila earlier dropped down into Dean's vacated chair with a shout. "Hit me again!" He waved the pretty bartender over, but Gunnar reached out to put a hand on his arm.

"Hey, Harley, go easy," he warned. "I think you've had enough."

"Fuck off." Harley knocked Gunnar's hand away with a scowl, and Alex curled a lip at the alcohol on his breath, noticeable even through the heavy flavor of the surrounding bar.

Gunnar drew back. "Just trying to help."

"Like you helped me in Fort Worth?" Harley twisted in his seat to look Gunnar in the eyes, and Alex toyed with the rim of her glass, casting a look over her shoulders in search of Dean. "What?" she heard Harley say, his drunkenness slurring some of his words. "You think I don't know you got me kicked off the card?"

"You wouldn't job to Crazy D, and I couldn't abide by that." Gunnar slammed down his drink, and Alex watched as Harley snarled.

"Yeah, I think you just couldn't stand the thought of me stealing your thunder," he spat.

Gunnar's brown eyes sparkled in amusement as he looked over at Alex, and the angel finished her drink with a flick of her wings. Where was Dean? "Kid," Gunnar joked, "I got no worries about that."

Harley let out a scornful laugh, and he turned in his seat as if to go. In a blink of an eye, he whirled around, his momentum fueling his punch. The impact sent Gunnar toppling from his chair to the floor, and the bar sprang to life. Alex leapt to her feet, jumping over Gunnar to shove Harley away and pin him up against the bar. "Harley!" Alex heard Rio's voice rise above the buzz of the gathering crowd. "That's enough!"

"Get up, old man!" Harley snarled down at Gunnar, struggling to free himself from Alex's grasp, but the angel held him tight. "Or do you need your go-go juice?"

"What?" Rio's voice sounded just behind Alex, and the angel relinquished her hold.

Harley smoothed down his black leather jacket with a scowl. "That's right." He thrust a finger down towards Gunnar. "Your golden boy's a fucking junkie."

"He's lying."

"Like hell I am!"

"Alright, alright." Rio put a hand on Harley's shoulder to keep him back. "Harley, we got two days left until Memphis. Sleep it off." She looked down at Gunnar with a frown. "Gunnar, we'll talk about this tomorrow." Harley scoffed, and Rio pointed towards the door. " _Go_."

Harley left with a roll of his eyes, and the crowd dispersed with a low, grumbling murmur. "Hey." Dean suddenly appeared at Alex's side, reaching down past her to help Gunnar to his feet. "I saw the whole thing. You okay?"

"Ah, yeah, yeah." Gunnar dropped back down into his seat at the bar with a dismissive shake of his head. "I've been hit harder by guys a lot tougher."

"Yeah, why, uh …" Dean joined him at the bar again, occupying the seat on Gunnar's left, and Alex sat down next to the Winchester. "Why didn't you fight back?"

"I got nothing to prove." Gunnar grunted out his thanks as the bartender refilled their drinks.

A man leaned up against the bar on Gunnar's right, speaking in a low voice, and Dean took the opportunity to pull Lawless' drink closer. He cast a quick look around the bar as he reached into his jacket, and Alex frowned as he pulled out his silver flask. "Holy water?" Alex watched as he poured a quick splash into Gunnar's whiskey. "Dean, he's not a demon! What exactly did Sam say to you?"

"He said that everywhere along the tour, someone has turned up dead." Dean kept his voice low so the two wrestlers beside him couldn't hear. "Apparently some of them looked like accidents, but they all had that symbol. The Hangman … he had it, too."

"Oh." Alex's eyes flickered over to Gunnar Lawless before dropping back onto Dean. "So … that means his death wasn't a suicide then. Do you think there's any chance it could just be a run-of-the-mill human serial killer?" Dean shook his head, and Alex sighed. "Of course not."

"Sam said the symbol was ancient Sumerian. It's said to have the power to, uh, 'pluck the spark of life.' So … demons."

"So demons." Alex sighed, turning her eyes around the bar as she let her grace flick out. "Well, sorry to disappoint, Dean, but everyone here is human."

"Hey." Dean elbowed Gunnar Lawless in the arm, lifting his own drink up with his other hand. "Is everyone that travels with you here?"

He slammed down his shot, and Gunnar did the same, oblivious to the holy water mixed with his drink. "Everyone but Harley," he rasped, sliding the third drink over to Alex. Dean glanced over at Alex, and the angel gave a noncommittal shrug; he had sure as hell appeared human, but she hadn't looked too hard. If something was laying dormant inside of him …

Dean's shoulders fell slightly as Gunnar got up and walked away, and Alex flicked a comforting wing in his direction. "You wanted to drink with them all, huh?" she guessed. Dean only shrugged, and Alex swiveled her stool around so she could look out over the bar, her elbows planted against the smooth countertop. "You know," she lied, "if there is a demon laying low in someone here, I might not be able to detect them. Might be worth giving the old-fashioned method a try."

"Yeah. Yeah." Dean straightened up in his seat. "Mean, better safe than sorry, huh?"

He slid out of his seat and sauntered after Gunnar, and Alex rolled her eyes. "Better safe than sorry," she repeated to herself. She reached behind her for her drink as she watched Dean pour himself a shot at the nearest table of wrestlers, grinning as he talked with the group, and she settled back into her seat with a faint grin. It was going to be a long night.

 **T** he early morning light shone through the hazy glass windows, casting dusty, dappled patterns on the tile floor. The bar was nearly empty; only a few stragglers remained. Alex sat on the bar, her legs drawn up under her as she eyed the room. The bartender was nowhere to be seen, having disappeared into the backroom almost half an hour ago, but Dean was still there, passed out in the far booth. The only other occupants were two wrestlers, both seated near the windows and talking quietly among themselves. They were Casey Lyons and Jake Lyse, if Alex remembered their names correctly. She glanced down at her phone, frowning as she reached out for the half-empty bottle of whiskey beside her. Sam had gone to bed around two am, but it was nearly seven; he should be up and moving by now. Maybe the cold promise of snow had prevented him from rising early.

As if on cue, her phone vibrated against her knee, and Sam's name popped up on the black screen. Alex took a long drink from the whiskey bottle before she answered, humming at the faint warmth that rushed through her limbs. A full night of drinking for only a small buzz. Sad. "Hey, Sam." She leaned back on the bar as she pressed her phone against her ear, letting her eyes drift around the quiet room. "How'd you sleep?"

"Uh, good. Good." Alex heard a door slam shut on the other end of the line. "How, uh, how about you? You guys still at the bar?"

"Yup. Dean's passed out in the corner — I'll wake him in a bit No luck on your demon lead, though. You sure that's what we're dealing with?"

"I mean, unless you got a better idea, yeah. Dean tell you about the Hangman?" Alex grunted, and Sam continued, "Apparently the cops are treating it like an open case. The one I talked to called it, and I quote, 'some satanic crap.' And the symbol —"

"Yeah, Dean told me about the symbol. It could just be some demon-loving freak, though. Maybe he saw the symbol online and liked it. Let me tell you, having spent the night hanging around these guys … they're crazy. It wouldn't be too far of a stretch to believe."

"Maybe," Sam reluctantly admitted. "But this is pretty obviously our kind of thing, you know? I mean, how often does something like this just turn out to be a person?"

Alex snorted. "From personal experience? What about that cannibal we thought was a rougarou? Or that psychopathic serial killer that wanted to summon back the demon that had once possessed him?" Alex balanced her phone between her cheek and shoulder to keep count on her fingers. "You got that Bender family you and Dean worked before me, or uh — what about that one ghost case that turned out to be two feral, murderous children in the walls?"

"Okay, Scully. I get your point." Sam cut her off, and Alex heard the Impala roar to life. "Listen, why don'y you and Dean hang tight for a few minutes? I'll come pick you guys up, and then we can discuss our next move."

"Sounds good." Alex turned her eyes in Dean's direction. "Trust me, Dean's not going anywhere soon." She watched as the two wrestlers stirred, pushing themselves to their feet, and she lowered her voice. "See you soon."

She hung up as Casey Lyons approached, a drunken swagger in his step. "You're still up, huh?" he joked in a low rasp. "I thought I remember you taking shots with your friend over there half the night."

"Yup, that was me." Alex downed the last few gulps of her bottle with a shrug. "And I've been up all night. Gotta keep my eye on that guy." She jerked a thumb off towards the slumbering Dean with a small grin. "It's looking like I'm going to be the designated driver."

Casey grinned, and Alex's wings flicked at his breath, a combination of alcohol and sleep. "Sweetheart, I think you might be able to even out-drink me." He staggered away with a loud, drunken laugh, and Alex gave a dramatic roll of her eyes as he and his buddy exited the bar.

She reached down to press her grace against Lucifer's, her faint buzz loosening her inhibitions of interacting with it. It curled upwards curiously, gingerly pressing into hers before it pulled back, but Alex didn't have time to mourn the loss before hands grabbed her waist, sliding her back across the bar and into a solid chest. Her wings instinctively flattened even as her eyes stretched wide in surprise. "You — you shouldn't be here!" she hissed. "Dean —"

"Dean's fast asleep. He won't be waking anytime soon." Lucifer's breath stirred her hair as he spoke, and his cold fingers rubbed soft, aimless circles on her hips. "It looks like he had a fun night. Celebrating something?"

"More like working a case." Alex leaned her head back against Lucifer's shoulder, keeping her good eye on Dean's sleeping form. "Sam thinks it might be a demon."

"A demon?" Lucifer hummed curiously against her ear. "Interesting. I could help, you know. Show the boys I'm a team player."

Alex gave a small shake of her head. "I don't think they'd appreciate that," she murmured, and Lucifer's wings curled around her, the feathers large and soft. "Not … not while you're still wearing Cas like that. They're still pretty intent upon saving him."

"And you?"

"Me? I'm still pissed at him. I mean, like, I'm _pissed._ " Alex kept her voice low to keep the snarl out of her words. "He knew what he was doing, and if he had any intent about keeping me, he would have thrown you out the second he got control. No." She shook her head. "The only time I felt him even _stir_ was when you tried to kill Sam." Her voice sharpened in displeasure, but Lucifer only grinned against her ear. "He's made his priorities clear."

"Yes, well, that's always been one of Castiel's faults. Always ready to die for the greater good even when it hurts those he loves." Lucifer's hands moved from her hips to her arms, a slow, soothing gesture as he slid them down to her hands.

"Oh? And what's some of your faults?"

Lucifer merely chuckled, threading his fingers through hers as he pressed himself into her back. "You know," he began, "all those years in the Cage without another soul around, and I'd forgotten how much I'd missed the touch of another angel. " His grace curled around hers, icy cold, and Alex closed her eyes. "Isolation for thousands of years until you." His breath stirred the hair on the back of her neck, and Alex's eyes snapped open when he paused. "Sam's on his way. Come find me when you're done here."

He disappeared, and Alex turned her head towards the bar entrance, her grace snapping outwards to find that the Impala sat just outside. She could feel Sam as he turned off the car, and she glanced back over at Dean; the Winchester was still fast asleep.

The back door opened, and the bartender stepped out, stifling a yawn as she looked between Alex and Dean. "We'll be out of here soon," Alex promised, gathering up the empty bottles that sat beside her on the bar. "Give us five minutes."

She slid to the ground as Sam stepped through the door, his eyes immediately going to his brother. "Dean? Dean, hey!" He hurried across the room as Dean awoke, struggling to sit up on the booth as he rubbed at his tired eyes. "Dude, you okay? What happened to you?"

"Mostly tequila … cut with holy water. I bought drinks for all the wrestlers and then, you know, they're like, 'well you gotta drink, too.' " He looked over at Alex through squinted eyes. "Oh man, can they drink, huh? Especially Rio. Can you, uh — can you do your thing? I think I can hear my liver screaming at me."

"Yeah, sure thing." Alex planted two fingers against Dean's forehead, letting her grace flow into him. To her surprise, Lucifer's grace joined her, flooding through the Winchester's body alongside hers.

She pulled back as she felt Dean's stomach roil, and she stepped away with an apology as he groaned. "Well?" Sam asked. "Alex said we don't have a lead, so I'm guessing nobody reacted?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope. Only person we couldn't test was, uh, this Harley guy, the ultimate douchebag. He bailed before I could get to him, and Alex didn't look close enough to see if there was something, uh … hiding or whatnot."

"Alright, then. Uh, let's go find him." Sam clapped his brother on the back and walked off towards the door, leaving Dean to push himself to his feet with a low groan. Alex followed after Sam more slowly, glancing back to make sure that Dean was on his feet before she stepped out through the door.

 **T** he motel lay just north of the bar, its parking lot covered in a thin layer of white snow. Alex followed Sam out of the Impala, her wings flicking curiously as she turned her eyes across the lot. Despite the 'no vacancy' sign in the office window, there were no signs of visible life in the complex. All the wrestlers were probably still passed out in their beds. "Alright," she began, clapping her cold hands together. "Which one is Harley's room?"

"Number four." Dean pushed past her to take the lead, and Alex fell in step behind him with a shrug. Dean rapped upon the wooden door, his collar turned up against the wind. "Harley?" he called. "Harley!"

No answer came, and Alex frowned, pushing her grace out and into the room in front of her. "Dean … there's no one there." She slipped past him, her grace unlocking the motel door with a single touch. "Harley's gone." She threw her shoulder into the door, and it swung open beneath the impact. The interior of the motel room was chaos — papers lay scattered across the floor, joined by torn pillows, loose feathers, and bits of broken glass.

"Well … that's not good." Dean stepped past Alex to stand in the room, and Alex scoffed.

"You think?" She stepped out of the doorway to let Sam through, and her eyes turned upwards to sweep the skyline. There. "Hey, Sam." She pointed up towards the light post where a security camera was angled towards the parking lot. "Big Brother's watching. Think he might have seen any visitors?"

Sam's praise came as a pat on the back, and Alex grinned as he hurried back out to the Impala. The wind howled through the parking lot, sending snow flurries through the air, and Alex hurried into the safety of the room, suppressing a shiver even as her wings shuddered. Dean was beside the overturned bed, his eyes narrowed as he examined the mess. "Well?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder towards the young angel. "What do you think?"

"Well, I guess there's two possibilities." Alex swept off the table before she dropped down into one of the intact wooden chairs. "Either Harley is our guy and some other hunter got to him before we could, or … or Harley's just become the latest victim." Dean grimaced, and Alex frowned as he pressed his hand against his temple. "You okay there, Dean?"

"Yeah, uh … yeah. I just have a bit of a headache." Dean let his hand fall away with a slow shake of his head. "More like a brain freeze than anything else. I guess I'm just getting too old to drink like that." He heaved a sigh before shaking off the thought. "Anyways. You sense anything supernatural around here?"

"Nope." Alex tilted her head back as she sniffed the air. "No sulfur, but who knows how long ago this happened. That could have already faded by now." She turned away as Dean rubbed at his head again, frowning; she had no doubt that Lucifer's cold grace had a hand in his ailment.

Sam returned a minute later, joining Alex at the table as Dean stepped back outside. "If those CCTV cams are run through the state," he began, opening his laptop, "then I can have that footage up in three, maybe four minutes."

"Great." Alex leaned back in her chair, letting her eyes traverse the messy room as Sam's fingers clacked against the keyboard.

Dean returned a minute later, an EMF detector in his hands. He swept it back and forth across the room, but the four small bulbs that decorated the top of the device stubbornly stayed off. "Hey, check this out," Sam suddenly said, waving his brother over. "Come here."

Alex circled around to lean over the back of Sam's chair as Dean looked up. "Got something?" He joined her behind Sam, and Sam pointed at the black and white image on his screen.

"Security cam footage," he announced. "Alright, let's see if we got anything." He started the footage, fast forwarding until Harley appeared on the screen. "So, this is 1:07 am. Harley heads to his room. Uh …" He fast forwarded through the tape again. "Um …"

A white van pulled into frame, its back pressed up against Harley's door, and Alex cocked an eyebrow at the sight. "Who's that?"

"No idea." Sam shook his head, unable to answer her question. "But … it's there for a few minutes, and that's Hardly." He slowed down the footage, and Alex leaned forward to watch a man step into view, an unconscious Harley thrown over his shoulder.

"Wow." Dean grabbed one of the fallen chairs and uprighted it to sit down next to Sam. "He looks knocked out."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, and he paused the security tape. "Now, let's see." He tapped through the clip, moving frame by frame until the perpetrator's face was in clear view. Sam zoomed in with a single click, and Alex's eyes widened in surprise.

"Is that…" She glanced over at Sam before her gaze slid onto Dean. "Is that Lawless?"

Sam leaned back in his seat with a small frown. "If Harley is a demon, how'd Gunnar get the drop on him?"

"Let's find him and go ask." Dean looked around the room with a shake of his head, and Sam closed out of the CCTV feed to switch over to the traffic cams. Alex watched as he backed through the footage to trace the white van, and she flicked her grace out in confusion. Gunnar was human — she had confirmed that herself. What was he doing with Harley?

"Okay," Sam finally announced, and Alex turned her attention back onto the laptop. "Traffic cams show the van heading north on Wilson, past First and Second, but it never got to Third." He looked up from the screen, confusion darkening his features. "Wait a second. That … that's by …"

"Trenton Hall," Dean finished with a thin nod. "Where the fight was. Yeah. Let's go."

 **I** n the stark light of day, Trenton Hall was a small, cracked concrete building that sat nestled between a wooded park and an abandoned gas station. Alex followed Sam and Dean out of the Impala, reaching back to draw her weapon as her grace flicked out towards the hall. "We've got a demon." Alex immediately drew back with a disgusted shake of her wings. "Just one. Plus two humans. One's barely still alive." She flicked her wing off towards the front door. "You guys go in high, I'll go around to the back."

She didn't wait for confirmation before she slipped off of the worn pavement and started around the back. The dirt path was slick with ice, and the angel spread her broken wings wide to keep her balance as she picked her way around to the service door.

It opened easily beneath her grace, and Alex slipped inside. The lights hummed above her head, flickering nervously, and Alex wove her way upwards towards where the body lay. She could still feel the sparks of life within the man, fading with each passing breath, and she quickened her pace, weaving through the halls.

Harley was laying in the middle of a darkened room, his body a mess of bloody cuts. His eyes were open, staring into the empty air, and Alex twisted her weapon in her hands as she approached. "Hey." She crouched down beside him, feet shifting to avoid the pools of blood. His heart was beating, but just barely, and Alex reached out to place a hand upon his shoulder. Her grace started inwards, unsure where to even begin as she felt her way along the punctured flesh. The heart had all but ceased its beating, and Alex pushed deeper in, forcing it to keep pumping. "Come on!" She dug into Lucifer's grace, forcing it up, but it resisted until, with one last push, it sprung outwards, flooding into Harley's body.

The man's chest convulsed as he gasped for air, his eyes snapping wide open as the color rushed back into his cheeks. The action startled Alex, and she drew her grace back with small squeak, her wings fluttering in surprise that quickly faded to relief. "Thank God." She curled forward slightly as she uttered the praise, her forehead momentarily resting against Harley's shoulder as she drew in a steadying breath. "I didn't think I could save you."

"I —" Alex felt Harley look around the dark room, his heart racing fearfully within his chest. "I — Gunnar — there was a demon — how did you …?"

"I know, I know." Alex tilted her head back, carefully tucking her grace back inside of her even as it trembled, strained and sore from the miracle. Lucifer's grace had once again fallen silent, retreating to rest deep within her gut where it curled tightly around Castiel's grace, hiding it from sight. "Can you … can you walk?"

"No, he — he cut my heel, m-man!" Harley's hands roamed across his chest, his eyes widening even further to feel the soft, unmarred flesh that had previously been riddled with knife wounds. "How …"

"That shouldn't be a problem anymore." Alex shifted downwards to his legs, feeling along his ankle. He was right; the tendon had been sliced clean through, but now only a slight tightness remained — Lucifer's grace had healed the wound completely. Alex rocked back onto her heels as Harley struggled to his feet, and she rose with him, reaching out to steady the wrestler as his legs trembled. "You lost a lot of blood," she warned, "but I need you to get as far away from here as possible. It's not safe."

"I … okay. Okay." Harley nodded, his eyes flickering warily towards the door. "What — what if he comes back —"

"I'll deal with him next." Alex lifted her grace up to her ears as she spoke, listening for signs of the Winchesters. She could hear their voices, too faint to make out distinct words, but definitely theirs. And they were speaking with someone. She forced her grace out, frowning at how it trembled uneasily at the strain, but it moved, unhindered, through the air to pinpoint the Winchesters' souls. They were near the entrance, encased in a hot, vile energy that could only belong to the demon with them. "Go now." Alex snapped her grace back in, snatching her weapon up off of the floor. "Run as fast as you can."

She didn't wait to see if Harley followed her command before she was off, breaking into an unsteady run as she wove through the halls. She could feel Sam up ahead and she slowed, her footsteps falling silent on the concrete floor. The demon stood ahead of her — Alex could see his shadow through the dark. He stood in front of Sam, his shoulders turned slightly towards the hallway where Alex crouched; he would see her if she tried to attack, and with how he held the Winchester, he could easily kill Sam before she reached him.

Alex straightened up with a roll of her shoulders, shaking out her wings to announce her presence as she strolled forward. The demon's eyes snapped onto her and Sam gasped, struggling from where he was pinned against the concrete wall. "I was wondering when the angel would show," the demon told him, and his eyes flashed red with a low chuckle.

"Where's Dean?" Alex's grace snapped out, searching the surrounding rooms. She felt him two rooms away, tense and on edge, and she twisted her weapon in her hand. "So, demon, huh? I could have sworn I'd put my money on serial killer."

"Gunnar's working for him." Sam hissed out the words, his jaw squaring angrily, and Alex reached out past Dean to feel for Gunnar's soul. "Why do you need him, huh? Can't you do your work on your own?"

"Well … I can't be everywhere. So when the man's deal came due, I gave him a choice … end up hellhound chow or collect souls for me." Sam scoffed, and the demon frowned. "I'm _delegating_. It's what good managers do."

Alex snorted. "And I'm sure this has all been hell-sanctioned, right? There won't be any problem if I call up your boss?"

"Please." The demon huffed out a breath of laughter. "Crowley's Lucifer's bitch — we both knew that. Why do you think I'm doing this?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw Sam's eyes widen, but she kept her chin lifted high. "I didn't mean _Crowley_ ," she said, her wings arching high above her head. "You think that just because Lucifer's back in town that you can just do whatever you want? You think that there aren't rules?"

"Lucifer didn't care about _rules_ ," the demon sneered. "It's every demon for himself, and the more souls you bring in, the better off you are."

Alex felt Lucifer's grace twist within her, and she narrowed her eyes. "You sure about that? Maybe — maybe I should just call him up here and we can straighten this out once and for all."

She watched as fear flickered in the demon's eyes, a small flame that was quickly quenched. "You couldn't," he taunted.

Alex's eyes flickered over to Sam, and she felt her stomach twist at the horrified expression on his face. "Want to find out?" She let her grace swell, and Lucifer's grace rose alongside hers, thrumming through her chest. She could feel her good eye glowing with its power, and the lights above her head flickered. "I'll whistle, and we'll see who shows up."

The lights flickered again, this time fueled purely by Lucifer's grace, and the demon fled before they ceased. Sam fell to the ground, no longer held against his will, and as soon as his feet hit the ground, he was looking around. "Dean!"

"Sam?" Dean's shout came from the hallway, and he rushed in, sliding to a stop at the sight of Alex and Sam. "Wait — where'd he go?"

"Alex scared him off." Sam smoothed down his jacket with a thin frown, and hazel eyes flickered onto Gunnar. "You okay?"

"You should leave. Duke won't be gone long." Gunnar looked around with a dark scowl, his eyes searching the darkness. "He'll be back soon, and he'll be mad."

"He won't be back anytime soon," Alex promised. She reached back to tuck her blade back into her jeans with a shake of her head. "I'm sorry, Sam. I should have just killed him. I didn't — I didn't think that would actually scare him away."

Dean made a wordless, questioning noise, and Sam frowned. "She threatened to call Lucifer," he explained, and he hesitated only a second before asking, "If you did call him, would he have come?"

Three pairs of eyes turned onto her, and Alex offered up a shrug. "Don't know," she admitted, and she frowned as she watched Sam's lips set into a tight line. "I don't know," she repeated stubbornly. "What?"

"It's just … when your eyes glowed, they were _orange_." The hesitation in Sam's voice sharpened into accusation, and Alex felt her face pale. "Last time that happened, you said it was because of Lucifer."

"It's … complicated." Alex's feathers ruffled as she watched Dean's face darken. "Oh, I'm sorry, but there's not a lot of lore on how an _Enaaish_ is affected when an archangel possesses their mate's body!" she snapped. "I'm just rolling with the punches here, Winchester —" A howl sounded in the distance, punching through the darkness, and Alex paused with a muttered, "Shit. Hellhounds."

"You hear 'em, too, huh?" Gunnar's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, and he forced a chuckle. "I always wondered what they'd sound like."

"Duke must have sent them." Alex's grace snapped through the air, and she reached back to draw her weapon from her jeans. "You three go. I'll take care of it."

Gunnar put a hand on her shoulder, and Alex's wings twitched. "No. You guys go. I've never been a good man. I look in the mirror and hate the face looking back at me." He shook his head, and his eyes turned towards the door. "I, uh … I got this coming."

Sam and Dean nodded, moving backwards towards the door, and Alex hesitated, her head turned towards the hellhounds in the distance. "I'll find Duke, and I'll kill him," she promised, her gaze swinging over to Sam and Dean. "I let him get away, and I'm not making that mistake again." Sam opened his mouth, but the angel firmly shook her head. "I'm going alone. You guys — you worry about Lucifer or the Darkness o-or Cas. Leave this one to me." She twirled her angel blade in her hand before she tucked it away. "I'll meet you guys back at the bunker in a few days."


	38. Feed the Wolf

**February 24th, 2015**  
 **Hell**

 **T** he hot, sulfuric air burned at Alex's lungs as she picked her way down hell's stairs, her wings drawn in tight to avoid the small burning flakes of stone that drifted down from the ceiling. She could hear the screams of the damned souls echoing through the hallways that sprouted off from the staircase like gnarled roots. Demons moved around her; some crept among the shadows, others twisted through the air, unhindered by a vessel.

The stairway split, and Alex turned left, ducking down one of the stone halls as a piercing scream bounced off of the walls. The winding hallways curved, branching off in a maze of identical corridors, but Alex's grace guided her feet.

From within shadows, a hand darted out to grab her wrist, and Alex's wings flared as she found herself yanked through a doorway. The door slammed behind her, leaving her enveloped in darkness, and Alex's grace rose to her eyes as she spun around, searching for her attacker. She caught sight of unlit torches on the wall, and her grace flashed out to light them.

Flames licked at the stone walls, casting moving shadows around the room, and Alex turned to find the demon who had grabbed her. "You — what the hell?" Her wings fell as she recognized the face in front of her, and she forced her feathers to lie flat.

Elias leaned up against the stone table in the middle of the room, his eyes pitch-black as he regarded the angel in front of him. "Heard you were looking for me." He crossed his arms across his chest, and his eyes faded from black to brown. "What do you want?"

Alex forced a harsh laugh at his scornful tone. "I didn't think you were still alive. I thought Lucifer hunted down all of Crowley's loyalists."

"You know me. Loyal to whoever holds the biggest gun." Elias' eyes narrowed, and he pushed himself off of the table to cross over to her. "I'm not looking to get myself killed anytime soon, so if you're wanting to get me involved in one of Lucifer's Ponzi schemes …"

"It's not that." Alex dismissively flicked her wing even as she felt Lucifer's grace twist within her. "I'm looking for a demon, goes by Duke. He's been topside for a while, and he's using his souls to hunt down others when their time is up." She pulled open the door to peer out into the hallway with a thin scowl. "I just need his location, and that's all."

She turned back when Elias scoffed. "You're asking me a favor as if we're friends."

"Look, I don't know a lot of demons, alright? Usually I'd just go to Crowley on this one, but … you know." Alex dismissively flicked a wing. "You're the next best thing I've got, and it's not like I'm asking for a lot."

Elias didn't answer, his lips pursed. "I don't know who Duke is," he finally said, "but I know who should. Assuming Lucifer hasn't executed her," he added sourly. "Name's Simmons. She's responsible for keeping track of all demons who are allowed topside."

"Simmons." Alex tested the name out on her tongue with a nod. "Alright, where can I find her …" She trailed off as Lucifer's grace shifted again, this time stronger, and her wings flattened instinctively against her back as she felt him land behind her. Elias vanished, and Alex leaned back, resting her head against Lucifer's chest as she looked up into his face. "I was wondering when you'd show."

"What are you doing here?" Lucifer's cold fingers curled through her belt loops, keeping her close, and Alex's grace pressed up against his. "Hell's not a place for someone like you. It's too … vile, too hot, for such a delicate angel."

Alex's wings twitched as Lucifer's fingers curled through the broken feathers, and she reluctantly stepped away and turned to face him. "I'm looking for a demon named Duke. We were hunting him up in Missouri, but I let him get away."

Lucifer stepped forward, and Alex moved back, the back of her legs bumping into the stone table. "I know. You threatened to sic me on him. What was it you told him? 'I'll whistle, and we'll see who shows up'?" He chuckled, but his humor didn't reach his cold eyes. "Do you think I'm a dog that comes running when you call?"

His wings curled forward, enveloping her, and Alex drew hers in. "Are you telling me you're _not_ going to come whenever I need you?" she countered, and she tilted her head up to meet his gaze with a grin.

Lucifer didn't immediately answer, and Alex felt his fingers trail down her cheek on her blind side, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "No," he conceded quietly, his fingers moving down her neck, "but I just don't want you confused about which of us wears the leash." His hand momentarily slid across the bottom of her throat, a cold, heavy pressure that lasted only a second before it disappeared. Alex swallowed thickly as Lucifer's hand fell away, and she felt his feathers twitch against hers. "Time to go, little lamb."

The ground lurched beneath her feet, and Alex drew her wings in tight as they flew off down the hall. Lucifer's wings beat behind her, pushing them through the hot air, and Alex screwed her eyes up against the wind as they exited hell.

They landed in the Needham Asylum, and Alex stifled a shiver at the sudden loss of hell's heat. She stepped away from Lucifer, only to be yanked back into place by the archangel to avoid a collision with a demon who bustled past. "Whoa." Alex looked around the room, her good eye wide at the sight of the busy throne room. "What's going on here?"

"Take a seat." Lucifer directed her towards the throne with a flick of his wings, and Alex dropped down onto the iron seat. Two demons stood down to Alex's right, files in hand as they waited for Lucifer's attention. A table stocked with manila folders lay off to her left, almost blocked from view by the constant flow of demons. The flames of the candles flickered from the movement, and Alex tilted her head back to look at the grey, stormy sky behind her.

"Good, good." Lucifer's voice had Alex turning her attention back to him in time to see him accept a file from a demon. "Remember," he added, lifting his voice, "A-B-C. 'Always be closing.' " He stepped forward, wings folded against his back, and demons scurried out of his way. "The sooner you little storm clouds find me another Hand of God, the happier I will be." A demons stepped up to his side, and Lucifer turned to look down at her. "You want me to be happy, don't you, Dollface?" he asked.

The demon let out a small laugh, and her eyes flickered black. "Of course, my lord," she promised, and Lucifer's teeth flashed in a grin.

"Good answer." He circled around to walk behind the throne, his crimson wings trailing across Alex's lap as he turned his eyes out across the demons. "Alright. You're gonna look high, look low, far and wide. Search every warehouse, every farmhouse, every henhouse, outhouse, and doghouse." He stopped behind the throne, and Alex listened to his fingernails drum impatiently against the metal. They paused, and Alex watched him cross off to her left. "What about you, little puppy? You have something to add?"

For the first time, Alex noticed Crowley. He was crouched in the shadows of the room, hunched over as he scrubbed fruitlessly at the concrete ground with a wooden toothbrush. His clothes had turned ragged and dirty, and perspiration decorated his brow despite the chill to the room. He flinched at the sound of Lucifer's voice, pressing himself further into the ground as he ceased his cleaning. "N-Nothing, master," he stammered out, his eyes locked on the ground.

Lucifer wandered over to the demon, his eyes narrowed in contemplation, and Crowley cried out as the devil yanked his head up by the hair. "Really?"

"I would tell you, I swear!" Crowley gasped out the words, his neck straining against the spiked iron collar around his neck, and his eyes rolled back in relief as Lucifer released his hold.

"I believe you." Lucifer patted the demon on the head, smoothing down the strands of hair that stuck up in every direction.

Alex watched a small tremor pass through Crowley's body — fear or exhaustion, the angel couldn't tell — and he dropped his eyes back down onto the floor in front of him. "May I return to my task?" he whispered, and Alex's eye darted around the room as the demons slowed, their eyes on their former king.

"Oh, of course." Lucifer flicked a wing, and Crowley once again started scrubbing the toothbrush against the grimy floor. "Ah, ah." The devil clicked his tongue, and he placed his foot on the toothbrush, pressing it into the floor. "Just _one_ minor tweak." He crouched down in front of Crowley and pried the toothbrush out of the demon's hands. His other hand went out to press against Crowley's lips. "Use your tongue."

The room fell silent, the only sound being Alex's feathers as the rustled. _Lucifer_ , she chided as Crowley shuddered. _Was that really necessary?_

Lucifer's response came as a grin as he turned around, and Alex watched as Crowley lowered his head to the floor; he hesitated for only a moment before his tongue rasped against the stone. The demons gathered around to watch, and Lucifer crossed the room to stand in front of Alex, his crimson wings lifted to hide Crowley from sight. "Move over, _le mohaoth_." He nudged Alex so he could sit, and Alex scrambled up before taking a seat on the armrest beside him.

Lucifer's quiet chuckle was the only warning she had before an arm wrapped around her waist and dragged her down into his lap. She felt a hand come up to stroke her hair, smoothing down the loose strands, and a quiet Enochian praise fell from his lips, too soft to make out.

"Simmons." A demon hurried into through the doors, his dark eyes scanning the throne room. They landed on the demon who Lucifer had termed 'Dollface,' and Alex watched through narrowed eyes as the two spoke in hushed voices.

"Wait." She straightened up in Lucifer's lap, ignoring how the archangel muttered out his displeasure at how her wings fluttered. " _That's_ Simmons?" She tried to pry Lucifer's hands off from her hips, but he held her tight. "Elias said I need to talk to her. She knows where Duke is."

She struggled, but Lucifer easily pulled her back, pinning her up against his chest as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "Don't you think we have bigger priorities than one entrepreneur? What about Amara? Finding a Hand of God?"

"It'll take me a day. Two tops." Despite Alex's protest, she stayed pressed against the archangel with a despondent frown. "Fine. I'll ask her later."

She felt Lucifer's grace shift as he thought, and with a sudden push of his wings, they were on their feet. The demons who had been watching Crowley all turned their attention onto them, and Alex lifted her head defiantly as their eyes landed on her. "Alright," Lucifer announced, and Alex felt his chest rise and fall with every breath. "I want all you little rays of sunshine to keep working while I take a little personal time, okay?" Heat rushed to Alex's cheeks, and the archangel let out a quiet laugh as he moved his hands to rest on her hips. "Don't do anything I would do."

His wings carried them into the sky, and the world spun as he flew across the country. The grey, cold clouds disappeared, giving way to red rocks and clear skies, and Alex's feet touched down on sand. She pushed herself away from Lucifer, angrily shaking out her wings. "Well?" she snapped. "Why'd you drag me out here?"

Amusement crackled through the archangel's grace, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I thought you wanted my help to hunt down this demon friend of yours." He sidled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her close. "I just can't figure you out, little one."

"Oh." Alex drew her wings in close, and she twisted her head to look back at the archangel. "You seemed pretty against it just a few minutes ago." She toed at a red rock, and her wings pushed out slightly, putting some distance between her and Lucifer. He released his grip, and she stepped away, eyes turned up towards the sun. "You didn't need to drag me out here just to tell me that. What else is this about?"

She could feel Lucifer's presence behind her, a chill that beckoned her back to him, but she stayed where she was, head angled so she could watch the archangel out of the corner of her eye. "I think Crowley knows where another Hand of God is," Lucifer finally said, and his feathers glittered in the sun as he twitched his wings. "I just don't know how to get it out of him."

Alex jumped up onto one of the sandy rocks, head craned to look up at the mountains surrounding them. "Arizona?" she guessed, and when Lucifer shrugged, she sat down, her legs dangling off of her perch. "Well, obviously humiliating it out of him isn't working," she drawled, and Lucifer rolled her eyes as she added, "Have you tried torture?"

"Torture's pointless." Lucifer wandered closer. "Enjoyable, but ultimately pointless. Not to mention messy. No, if I want to learn what he knows, I'll have to take a different approach." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, and his grace twisted against hers when Alex frowned. "What's the matter?" His head tipped to the side as he studied her, and his eyes sparkled in amusement. "You don't like how I'm treating him, do you?"

"It's just … difficult to watch." Alex pursed her lips together as she regarded the archangel in front of her. "I guess it gives me good incentive to stay on your good side. I don't want to be licking hell's floors."

A push of his wings had Lucifer appearing in front of her. His eyes flickered across her face, taking in her features as he thought. "Oh, trust me," he finally joked, "I can think of better uses for you." His eyes dropped onto her wings, and he reached out to curiously finger a dead, dull feather. "Persuasion is a delicate art. It can be so difficult to tell how much pressure it might take. Too little, and their will strengthens. Too much …" The vane in Alex's feather snapped under the force of his hands, and Lucifer discarded the broken feather with a click of his tongue. "And they break beyond repair."

"Maybe Crowley doesn't need to be persuaded." Alex reached up to remove the devil's fingers from her wings; she had few enough feathers as it was without his help. "Maybe he just … needs to be manipulated. He knows what this thing can do, and if he thinks it can kill you …"

She trailed off when Lucifer grinned, and his hands grabbed onto the back of her thighs, hauling her closer until she had to wrap her legs around his waist to make room for him. "I like the way you think," he praised, and Alex felt warmth bubble up in her chest at the praise. "If Crowley were to escape, it would be the first place he would go. He'd lead us directly to it."

"We'd need someone to go with him and keep us updated," Alex reminded. "Normally I'd be his go-to person for this kind of thing, but I'm guessing not anymore."

Her eyes fell to her lap, but Lucifer chucked her under her chin until she lifted her gaze back onto his face. "I know just the demon for the job." His lips pressed against hers, and Alex reached up to wrap her fingers around the back of his neck, keeping him close to fight back the dry heat of the desert. "However," he added after a moment, and his fingers drummed on her jawline, "you're not going to like it."

...

 **A** lex sat propped up on the rock, looking out over the plateau of granite rusted red with iron. The sun was stretching towards the horizon, turning the sky a palette of indigo and orange streaks. Her wings were twitching, torn between pressing against her hot skin or resting against the sun-baked stone, and she shifted uncomfortably as she watched Lucifer. The archangel was standing a few paces in front of her, his head lifted as he studied the sky around him.

"You summoned me, sir?" Simmons appeared at Lucifer's side, and the archangel turned, his teeth bared in a grin.

"Why, yes, I did." His teeth teased at his bottom lip, and Alex rolled her eyes as his wings curled forward towards the demon. "Thank you for meeting me."

With Simmons' dark skin, it was impossible to tell if she was blushing, but her delight was clear from her smile and how her eyes momentarily flickered to the ground. "Of course," she murmured, too quiet for Alex to hear without the use of her grace. "You know I'd do anything for you."

Lucifer chuckled quietly, and when Simmons' eyes shifted over towards Alex, he took her chin in his hand to draw her attention back onto him. "Alex," he began, his voice brisk with authority as he held the demon's gaze, "give us a moment, would you?"

Alex hesitated for only a second before she pushed herself to her feet with a nod. "Yes, Lucifer," she intoned, and she felt the archangel's grace twitch, surprised and pleased at the submissive acquiescence. She waited until her back was turned before she rolled her eyes. Obviously this is what Lucifer had meant by 'not going to like it.'

She climbed up the rocks to choose a perch some twenty feet away, reaching out for Lucifer's grace to listen in on the conversation. She felt it shift, making room for her to rest as he spoke to Simmons. "There. Is that better?" Alex couldn't see Simon's expression, but she could feel Lucifer's amusement. "Good. Now, I've got an itsy bitsy proposition for you. You see, I have reason to believe that Crowley does in fact know I where another Hand of God is."

"I wouldn't put it past him," Simmons agreed disparagingly. "How do you plan to find it — if you don't mind me asking, sir."

Alex watched a grin spread across Lucifer's face. "I don't mind at all," he promised. "I think the best way to discover its location is to have Crowley lead us there himself." He reached out to cradled Simmons' head in his hands. "I need someone to help me, someone I can trust beyond a reasonable doubt. Someone … someone who can fly beneath Crowley's suspicions and convince him to seek it out. Hmm?"

"I'll do it." Simmons straightened up, her voice dancing on the edge of eagerness. "I've worked directly under Crowley for almost five years," she added, and the eagerness was replaced with disgust. "He'll trust me."

One of Lucifer's hands moved to cup the back of her neck. "What would I do without you, Dollface?" he murmured, and his eyes glinted in pleasure as he pulled away. "Scamper on back home, and I'll meet you there in a little bit."

Simmons turned to go, and Alex felt her dark eyes linger on Alex for a moment. "Sir, if I may …" she began. "It's in regards to your angel friend … I don't know if you should put as much trust into her as you do. She and Crowley have a long history … and the Winchesters —"

Alex's feathers bristled when she fell silent, and Lucifer chuckled. "I know all about her time with Crowley," he promised softly. "Don't you worry your pretty little face." He playfully tapped her on the nose, and the demon disappeared in the blink of an eye. Lucifer watched her go with a smile before he flared his wings, and Alex shifted over on her perch as Lucifer flew up to land beside her. "Simmons will get the job done."

"Yeah, I heard." Alex drew her wings in close with a sour frown. "Good job sweet-talking her, by the way. Should've gotten Duke's location out of her while you were at it."

"You … you're jealous." Lucifer's lips twisted into a smile when Alex snorted. "You're jealous, aren't you?" His head tilted back as he laughed, and Alex smacked him in the chest with the back of her hand. The laughter softened into a low, faux growl, and he leaned back, planting his hands behind him on the rock to prop himself up. "Simmons was the obvious choice," he reminded. "She's so … starstruck. All she needs is a soft touch, a smile here and there, and she'll do anything that I ask." Crimson feathers brushed against her arm, and Alex turned her head to frown over at him. "Don't give me that look," he chided. "You're the one who doesn't want to be my mate. What do you want me to do, sulk?"

He reached over to touch her shoulder just beside the neck, and Alex jerked away as she felt her grace jump upwards, displeased to be touched where she was bonded to Castiel. "Well you weren't exactly pleased at the rejection," she muttered, batting away his hand as she shifted away. "Good thing you need my genuine consent, huh?"

Her deadpanned quip was met with silence. She could feel the immediate change in Lucifer's demeanor, and she clamped her jaw shut at her mistake. "You know, I don't think I like what you're implying," he warned, and he straightened up, his shoulders in line with hers as his feathers ruffled. "First off, I'm still an angel, you know. Consent, that's basically our middle name. Secondly," he added, his tone darkening, "even with that … hindrance, I could make you my mate if I wanted."

Alex scoffed, but interest got the better of her, and she glanced up at Lucifer with a small, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I can be very persuasive. And I think it would be fairly easy." Lucifer tucked a strand of loose hair behind Alex's ear, and she pressed her grace against his, curious to know more. Lucifer chuckled, but he obliged."If you thought hell was bad, imagine being dragged down to its darkest corners. Hours of torture everyday, your only reprieve being at the end when I appear to heal your wounds and ask you one simple question."

Alex drew her wings in tight; despite the shiver that ran up her spine, she found herself asking, "And if I don't say yes?"

She felt surprise faintly pulse through him, followed by amusement. "Then, maybe one day, I'd be late. Let you stew in the pain and the heat until you start to fear that I'm never coming to save you from your affliction. But I will." Lucifer hesitated, and Alex watched his eyes flicker across her face. "But maybe after that I wouldn't. Not until you were begging for me. And," he added, and a faint hint of humor crept into his words, "how could I say no to that?" He slid off of the rock to stand in front of her, and his wings curled around her sides. Alex's eyes flickered down to the ground, and she felt his posture soften as silence followed his words. "What?"

Alex shifted uncomfortably on the hot stone, studying her hands as they toyed with the hem of her shirt. "You just sound like you've thought that through before."

Lucifer chuckled, and he tucked a finger under her chin to lift up her head. "A lot of things cross your mind when all you can do for years is think," he said. "If it makes you feel better, I don't think I could find any pleasure in your suffering. I'm hoping my natural charm will be enough. I am, however," he warned, "serious about making you beg." Alex scoffed, a quiet, barely-there noise, and Lucifer's hands grabbed her thighs to pull her closer. "I think I've been rejected enough times to earn that."

His gaze came to rest on her clouded eye, and his hand moved up to press on the skin just below it, feeling along the thin bone. His grace moved inwards, and Alex's muscles locked up at the ice that rushed through her nerves, an overwhelming power that overtook her grace. She could feel every cell in her body vibrate, buzzing with life; she could feel the ground thrumming, how each tiny grain of sand rattled beneath her fingertips. And she could feel the neurons in her brain alight as Lucifer's grace centered in her head, washing away the damage beneath the flood of its power.

And then he pulled back, and it was gone. "What —" Alex tried to speak, but there was no air in her lungs to form the words. The blackness on her left side was gone; there was sun and sky and rocks, stretching out as far as the horizon.

"I hope that wasn't too much." Lucifer's voice had Alex turning her two eyes back onto him. "I didn't want to overwhelm you and burn you out, but I had to make sure I healed it properly." A hand came to rest on her sternum, and his grace trickled inwards. "Alex?"

"I'm fine. I just …" Alex covered his hand with her own, her grace pulsing against his cold skin. "What was that?"

"That was me." Lucifer's voice was underlined with smug pride, and the piece of his grace that rested within her shifted; Alex felt her eyes glow orange as it rose up. "You thought this was powerful? It's just a small fraction of what I am. Even what you just felt was so controlled —"

"Okay, now I think you're just bragging." Alex planted her hands against Lucifer's chest to push him away, but the archangel didn't budge. "Come on." She fruitlessly shoved again, and when it didn't work, she grabbed the lapels of his coat. "We have a demon and a Hand of God to find, remember?"

"You're right, as always." Lucifer grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her to her feet. "Time to set our plan into action." His lips brushed hers, and then the ground disappeared. Alex tucked her head into Lucifer's shoulders as they returned to the asylum, watching his crimson wings carry them away.

They landed in the front hallway of Needham Asylum, and Alex stepped away as soon as her feet touched the ground, shaking out her wings so her feathers would lie flat against her back. _You sure this is going to work?_ she prayed, looking up into Lucifer's face in search of any sign of doubt, but the archangel's eyes shone with confidence.

"Absolutely." He led the way down the hall, and Alex trailed after him, eyeing his thick, well-groomed wings as they walked. The blood-red feathers glimmered like crystals in the flickering torchlight; the long, thick primaries grew darker and darker along the vanes until they faded to black at the tips. They twitched as she watched, and Alex drew her own wings in closer, small and frail in comparison.

Lucifer threw open the throne room doors, and Alex followed him in. The sea of demon parted as Lucifer wandered through, his blue eyes turning across the room. They lingered on Crowley, and Alex quickly diverted her eyes at the sight of the demon still crouched in the corner. Crimson wings stretched out, blocking her sight and ushering her up towards the throne, and Alex curled up on the iron seat as Lucifer turned to look out upon the demons. "Alright, I think it's time for everyone to take a five minute coffee break," he announced to the gathering crowd. A low murmur passed around the room, unsure of whether or not the archangel was joking, but when no other comment came, they started off towards the doors. "Simmons." Lucifer motioned the demon closer, and she hesitated, her eyes darting around the room. "A word?"

"Yes, Lucifer." Simmons folded her arms in front of her as she waited for the room to empty, and Alex pushed herself to her feet, her eyes turning onto Crowley. He had paused in his task, his dark eyes warily watching the three of them.

"Alex, why don't you put the puppy back in his cage, hmm?" Lucifer flicked a wing off towards the side, and Alex hesitated only a moment before she nodded. She crossed over to Crowley, unable to make eye contact with the former King of Hell.

She crouched down to fumbled with the chain that hung around his neck, and she watched how he flinched away at the brush of her skin against his. Pity thrummed through her, and Alex paused, letting her hand lay flat against his neck in a moment of comfort before she nudged him upwards. "I'm sorry." The whisper was barely audible, and the demon trembled, crawling past her to curl up in the small, cramped hole in the wall. The iron bars fell down as soon as he was inside, and Alex turned her eyes away as Lucifer's grace beckoned her backwards.

The archangel was seated on the throne, one leg crossed as he held Simmons' gaze. Alex crossed the room to stand at his side, and Lucifer's nails drummed softly on the armrest. "Now," he began, his voice echoing through the deserted room, "a little birdie told us that you have some information of use." He flashed a grin when Simmons' eyes darted over to where Crowley hid in the shadows, and the archangel clicked his tongue. "We're looking for a demon named Duke."

His grace brushed against Alex's, signaling for her to take over, and she stepped forward. "He's using people whose ten years are up to hunt down and kill other deal holders. Last I saw him, he was in Missouri heading south towards Memphis."

She watched Simmons blink in surprise. "Duke?" she repeated. "Uh, yes. I can have his location in two minutes." She waited for Lucifer to nod before she disappeared, and Alex leaned up against the backrest of the throne with a roll of her eyes.

"I don't like her," she muttered, and she let her eyes wander over towards Crowley. The demon was curled up, his head tucked into his chest, and Alex tore her eyes away as Lucifer tugged her down into his lap.

"I know, but we need her. For now." Lucifer situated her so she sat with her back against his chest, stroking her arm as they waited.

Simmons returned a minute later, and her eyes tried to seek out Lucifer without acknowledging Alex's presence. "Sir, Duke is in Osceola, Arkansas," she announced. "That's as much as I can tell you on such short notice. If you give me an hour I can send …"

Lucifer waved his hand to cut her off. "That's plenty," he promised; his hand didn't stop stroking her arm, a slow, almost mindless motion, but Alex could feel the intensity that rested beneath his skin. "I imagine that we'll be gone for most of the night. Keep everyone busy but, uh, keep them out of this room, would ya, sweetheart?" He nudged Alex to her feet, his eyes turning towards where Crowley was hiding. "I don't want anyone getting too close when I'm not around to supervise."

Simmons followed his gaze, lingering on Crowley before she nodded. "Yes, sir," she promised. "You can count on me."

Lucifer grinned, and he tapped her on the nose. "I know I can," he praised, but the playfulness died from his eyes as he glanced over at Crowley. "Stay put now, puppy," he warned. "We'll be back tomorrow."

Alex let Lucifer pull her close as he flew them away, her eyes narrowed against the wind. She watched the ground move, trying to make out the land below her, but Lucifer moved too quickly for even her, and Alex eventually shut her eyes. Her feet touched the ground a few moments later, and Alex looked around the empty alleyway. "Alright so, uh, where is Duke, huh?"

"We're just going to have to find out." Lucifer squeezed her hand, and Alex followed him out of the alley. "There's a demon in the bar over there." He flicked a wing towards the neon sign across the street, and Alex stretched out her grace to feel through the building. "Might be your friend."

"Might be," Alex agreed. She could feel the demon in question in the bar, and she let Lucifer lead the way across the street, her hand tightly clasped in his. "Wait, Luce …" She tugged on his hand as they stepped up onto the sidewalk, and the archangel gave a dramatic roll of his eyes as he stopped.

"Let me guess." He put a finger up against her lips so she would stay quiet. "You want to do this inconspicuously, hmm? No — no human casualties?" Alex nodded, and Lucifer's lips curled up into a smile. "Tell you what, _le mohoath._ " He nudged her towards the door with his wings, and Alex reluctantly dropped his hand. "Why don't you go inside and flush him out, and I'll nab him when he comes out the back door."

Alex glanced up at the bar with a small nod. "Good plan. I'll be right back." She hurried up to the door and slid inside, her wings drawn in tight as she stepped into smoky room. Her eyes traversed the bar, passing over the slick bar counter on her left. The bartender and the two men sitting in front of him were human; they gave Alex little more than a quick glance as the bell on the door above her clinked.

Duke sat in the corner of the room, half-hidden in the shadows. The collar of his leather jacket was turned upwards, and his fingers toyed with his whiskey glass as his eyes calmly traveled around the room. They drifted past her before returning, and the some of the collected tranquility faded from his face. Alex's wings lifted, still folded tight in the small enclosures, and Duke pushed himself to his feet. His eyes darted behind him in search of the exit, and Alex trailed after him as he moved towards it, keeping her distance to make sure he didn't snap his fingers and disappear on her.

He vanished through the back door, and Alex quickened her step as she felt Lucifer's grace twist within her. Her grace rose up to her eyes as she stepped out of the bar and into the alley. Duke was to her left, stopped dead in his tracks by Lucifer, crimson wings filling the air between the two brick buildings.

Duke's head whipped around, and Alex mimicked the archangel, her broken arches stretched upwards to try and reach the bricks, and the demon's face paled. "L-Lucifer." He dropped down onto one knee in front of the archangel, his gaze on the cracked asphalt. "My lord, I didn't — I never thought —"

"Hmm?" Lucifer wandered closer, tapping his chin as he regarded the demon, and Duke immediately fell silent. "You never thought that I'd personally come to check up one one of my men when he starts breaking the rules?" Duke opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Lucifer cut him off with a click of his tongue. "You know, I appreciate your ingenuity, but I just can't have anarchy."

His wings crooked, beckoning Alex closer, and she drew her weapon as she approached. Duke's head cocked; he heard her footsteps. "With all due respect, my lord," he rushed out, "I'm a businessman. We can make more deals, collect more souls, all with less demons …" He faltered when Lucifer cocked an eyebrow, and Alex scoffed.

"It doesn't look like he's interested," she joked."Pity."

Duke's shoulders tensed, and a low whistle under his breath was the only warning Alex had before he twisted, using his momentum to jump to his feet and throw himself at the young angel. She barely had time to react, her weapon flying up to protect herself, but Lucifer's grace surged upwards with a clap of thunder, and Duke exploded into black smoke.

Alex coughed as the ash was carried away on the wind, and her hands batted it away as she sought out Lucifer. "You were right." Lucifer beat his wings towards her, dispersing the blackened cloud with a thin, casual frown. "He was trouble." A howl cut through the air, and Lucifer curiously glanced behind him even as Alex shivered. "Hellhounds."

"Duke must've called them." Alex stepped closer to him. "They're going to be pissed."

She pressed her grace up against his, silently conveying her unease as more howls joined the first. Lucifer's wings curled around her, and Alex let him nudge her even closer to him, her feathers entangling with his. "They won't hurt us. Well, me," he corrected. "They won't hurt me."

The barking sounded again, distinctly closer this time, and Alex twisted her weapon in her hands as she pushed her grace out towards the hellhounds. "Can't hurt you or won't hurt you?"

"Both." Lucifer lifted his wings as the hellhounds turned the corner, and Alex stepped backwards, her angel blade poised for defense. The three beasts prowled closer, their black hackles raised, and their sulfurous breath clung to the chilly air. Alex shifted, and three pairs of glowing eyes snapped onto her. Lucifer's gaze followed, and his wings flicked. "Put that away," he chastised, "You'll scare them."

" _I'll_ scare —" Alex snapped her jaw shut, but she did as Lucifer requested, stowing her blade in her jeans.

Lucifer turned back to the hellhounds, and his face softened as he stepped forward. "Hello, sweethearts," he cooed, crouching down five feet from the hounds. "Do you recognize me?" His wings curled, and the largest of the beasts tipped its head, its black ears pricking forward. The hound on the left growled, and the bigger one whipped his head around, his jaws snapping around open air. Lucifer whistled, and eyes turned back onto him. "Come here."

He held out a hand, and the hellhound crept forward, sniffing curiously at Lucifer's fingers. He growled when Alex crept forward, but Lucifer reached out to put a hand on the hound's thick neck. "Why did you ask them if they recognize you?" Alex crouched down at Lucifer's side, and the archangel rubbed at the hellhound's scruff.

"Do you know who created hellhounds?" he asked, and when Alex shook her head, he released his grip on the beast. "My Dad made them back when he was in his creative phase, but they were too brutal. They didn't exactly play nice with his other toys, so he was going to put them down." Lucifer's hand fell away, and the hellhound nudged at it with his nose, whining until the archangel reached up to scratch its chin. "I managed to save one of the pregnant ones before he destroyed the rest."

The other hellhounds slunk closer, their hackles lowered, and Alex hesitantly reached out to place a hand on one's back, surprised at how coarse the fur was, how hot the skin burned beneath her fingers. "They're amazing." She ran her fingers along the flank, and thick muscle twitched beneath her touch. "So you created a whole new population from …"

"From Ramsey. That was her name." Lucifer pushed himself to his feet with a flick of his wing. "Don't get too close," he warned when Alex shifted closer, her finger moving towards the head. She pulled back, and he added, "They may be calm now, but they can turn without a moment's notice." Alex reluctantly rose to her feet, and the hellhound snorted, leaving a cloud of steam hanging in the air. "Go back home," he ordered, waving his hand to shoo them away. The hellhounds hesitated, and his grace crackled. "Go on, shoo! Get out of here!"

The hellhounds fled, nipping at each others' heels as they went, and Alex grinned. "They obey you."

"They do. And so does Ramsey." Lucifer pulled her close as the hounds disappeared from sight, and Alex let her wings fall flat to allow him to press closer. "I'll show her to you one day if you want."

"I'd really like that." Alex gently extruded herself from the archangel's cold touch, her broken wings flicking towards the bar. "How long until Simmons calls us in? Because we can wait inside until she does." She tugged on his hand, pulling him down the alleyway and in through the back door. The bar was filling up, and Alex dropped down into Duke's vacated booth with a small frown. "And how will we know when they're ready?" she added.

"She'll pray." Lucifer tapped his temple twice as he joined her in the booth, and Alex grunted as she slid to make room for him, displeased to find that he wasn't choosing to sit across from her like social etiquette generally dictated.

"And you're not … you're not going to kill Crowley afterwards, right?" Alex drew her wings in tightly as Lucifer threw an arm across the booth behind her, his own wings hanging lazily over the back.

She felt some of the archangel's confidence loosen, and he hesitated. "He'll try to kill me," he warned. "Now that he's out of his cage, he'll do anything in his power to avoid being put back in. And if it comes down to me or him …" Alex rested her head against his chest with a sigh, and she felt his arm drop down to rest across her shoulders, his large hand gently rubbing at her arm. "What makes you so attached to him, _le gipah_? After everything he's done."

"I … I'm not sure. I've just spent so much time with him these past few years, and he's not …" Alex struggled to find the right words. "He's not as bad as he lets on to be."

"He put a mark on your soul. Your _grace_."

Alex crossed her arms. " _I_ approached _him_ with the deal. Besides," she added in a sullen tone, "you've probably heard about Sheol, so you know he already had a claim to it." Stiff silence met her words, ad she chanced a look up into his tight face. "You don't … no one told you?"

"Sh." The hand on her shoulder snaked around to cover her mouth. "I'm sifting through Castiel's thoughts. I see they discovered your real name."

Alex pried Lucifer's hand away. "You don't sound surprised," she muttered, her grace wincing at the touchy subject. "How long have you known?"

"Since the first day I was in here." Fingers tapped on her skull, and the hand returned to her lips. "Now, shh. Let's see. I haven't even thought about Sheol in a long, long time." A few more seconds of silence followed, and finally the hand fell away, allowing her to speak. "Very interesting. It seems I was right about your little 'universe' theory."

"Yeah, congrats on that one —" Alex cut off when Lucifer rose to his feet, all but hauling her up with him.

"Time to go, little lamb. Our birdie is singing." His arms enveloped her, and the air spun as he carried her away. They landed a moment later inside a cement storage facility, and Alex stepped away, shaking out her wings. Lucifer placed a finger on his lips, a signal for her to remain quiet, and Alex nodded, drawing in her grace as she walked in the archangel's footsteps.

He led the way down the hall, anticipation prickling at his grace; if Alex focused, she could almost believe that it was tinged with desperation. "A Hand of God?" Simmons' voice drifted down the hall, and Lucifer's feathers rustled in barely-contained excitement. "Can I touch it?"

"With all due respect, Simmons," Crowley returned, "I don't think you can handle my rod."

Lucifer's wings pushed him forward towards an open door, and Alex felt his grace tremble before he stilled it in suave determination. "I bet I can." He strolled into the room, his hands shoved cockily into his pockets. "Is it just me, or it is getting a little phallic in here?"

Silence met his words, and Alex rushed after him, sliding into the room with a huff. "That's what you went with?" Her eyes flickered across Crowley, frozen in surprise and fear, and she shook out her broken wings. "Phallic? Really?"

"I didn't hear you offer up anything better." Lucifer dragged a finger across a black chest on the shelf beside him, inspecting it for dust.

" _Anything_ would have better." Alex watched as Crowley shifted from where he stood, his brown eyes flickering over to a rusted metal box that lay in off to his right.

Lucifer followed his gaze, and he clicked his tongue disparagingly. "Crowley, Crowley, Crowley. You really thought you could double-cross me? _Me_?" He pulled a thick black book off of the shelf, momentarily pretending to study it before he discarded it and moved forward. "You know, I invented the double-cross. Like, literally. Of course, I couldn't have orchestrated all of this without the lovely, talented Simmons here." He stopped in front of Crowley, and Simmons shifted to stand at his side with a smirk. "She, um, she hates you, b-t-dubs."

"Yeah, I really do," Simmons agreed, and Alex slunk forward to stand behind Lucifer, her eyes flicking between him and Crowley.

"Yeah, they all do. Like, every demon in Hell." Pride crept into Lucifer's words, and Alex watched Crowley clench his jaw. "Can't really blame them, can you? I mean, maybe once you were the evilest evil that ever eviled … present company excluded," he added with a grin, but it quickly faded into faux disappointment. "But now … you're nothing but Dean Winchester's number one fan. But I knew — I _knew_ you were hiding something. I could see the last spark of defiance in your eyes." His wings suddenly ruffled, the only outward sign of his anger before he grabbed Crowley by the jacket and pulled him close. "And rather than beating it out of you, which … doable, but messy … I let you lead me here." He shoved Crowley off to the side, and Alex jumped away to avoid being hit by the stumbling demon as Lucifer turned towards the rusted box. "So I'm going to take this …" He tapped the box before turning his head back towards Crowley, "and then I'm going to take you. And, puppy … you're not gonna like what comes next."

His fingers undid the lock even as Alex shifted closer, her wings folding forward. "Please, you promised me you wouldn't kill him."

Lucifer chuckled as he lifted the box's lid. "Oh trust me, I can do so much worse —"

The words died in his throat, and Alex felt his grace still in surprise before he whipped around. "You looking for this?" From behind his back, Crowley produced a wooden staff, and Alex ducked, dropping to the ground as he swung it through the air. The blow landed directly on Lucifer's face, and the archangel was thrown towards the door, hitting the concrete ground with a heavy _thud_. "You really think you could double-cross me? Me?" he taunted as Simmons rushed to Lucifer's side, and Alex scrambled after her, hesitantly positioning herself between the two parties. "I perfected the double-cross. Like, literally."

The staff in his hand began to glow red, thrumming with power, and Lucifer pushed himself to his feet with a pained grunt. "Alex, get back," he warned, and Alex felt his grace pull her backwards. She didn't hesitate to obey, retreating to his side, but Lucifer ushered her further behind him with his wings until she was standing on the threshold of the storage hallway.

The red glow had traveled up Crowley's arm, settling in his veins, and the demon's eyes bled red as he sought out Lucifer's gaze. "So this is what it feels like to be God," he began, and his voice reverberated through the small room. "Not bad. Tingly." He blinked, and his eyes faded to brown as they turned onto the staff. "If this can hurt something as powerful as the Darkness, I wonder … what can it do to you?"

His hand glowed red, and that was all Alex saw before hands shoved her down the hall, out of Crowley's sight. Lightning cracked, blinding her, and Alex hit the ground as thunder shook the walls around her, drowning out her own fearful shout. "Lucifer!" There was a crash, and she scrambled to her feet, steadying herself on the wall as the ground pitched uneasily beneath her. "No!"

Lucifer was slumped against the wall, his eyes closed and his chin to his chest. The cinder block wall had shattered behind him, and chunks of stone and dust were settling on the cracked floor. Alex rushed to his side, dropping to her knees as she shoved her grace up against his. His wings were still there, laying limply at his side, but his grace didn't move, stunned by the blow.

"What …" Alex breathed the word out, and her head whipped around to find Crowley standing in the storage room, the staff still in his hand. Simmons was nowhere to be seen, but the pile of ashes in the doorway answered her unspoken question. Crowley's face was twisted in anger and frustration, and Alex's wings rose threateningly as she held his gaze. Their eyes met, but Alex quickly pulled them away when Lucifer stirred beneath her, a low groan pulled from his lips.

She scrambled backwards as he heaved himself to his feet, and he rubbed at the back of his skull, a deep scowl forming across his face as his fingers came away red. "You made me bleed my own blood." His grace seethed beneath his skin as he stalked forward, and Alex moved after him, her broken wings flapping twice, one in relief, and the other in anger. Crowley lifted his hand, but the glow had left his veins, dissipating into the air. "You're out of juice, huh?"

"Bollocks —" Crowley's curse was cut short by Lucifer's fist; the strength of the blow sent him tumbling back over the table, and Alex jumped forward to grab Lucifer's hand. He shook her off with a snarl, leaping over the table to haul Crowley back to his feet, but the demon was gone.

"Fuck." Lucifer ground out the curse, and he spun around, his wings flared out in fury. His eyes glowed orange, and Alex stepped backwards as they landed on her. "He's gone." Lucifer's gaze fell onto the discarded staff, dropped by Crowley only seconds ago, and he kicked it across the room. "Dammit."

His wings fluttered before they drooped, and Alex curled hers towards him. "I-I — I'm sorry," she started. "I didn't —"

"It's not your fault." Hands cupped her cheeks, and Alex closed her eyes at the cold brush of skin. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Alex's eyes slipped past him towards the pile of ashes on the floor, resting there momentarily before moving on to the cracked hall. "And what about you?" She reached up to feel the back of his head, and the archangel winced, hissing as her fingers brushed the open wound. "You're lucky this is the worst you got."

"Simmons threw herself in front of me to take the brunt of it." Lucifer's grace flicked, and Alex felt along his grace for any sign of grief; all she felt was anger and surprise. "Pity, I suppose. She was loyal to a fault." The anger returned, and Lucifer's feathers rustled. "We'll have to move fast. Crowley will be on the lookout for another Hand of God, and then he'll return to retake his throne." His shoulders sagged in exhaustion, and for a moment, his face reflected his true age. "I'll take you back to your room," he finally decided. "Then I'll take care of hell." He pulled her close, drawing in a deep breath before his wings carried them up into the air.

...

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **T** he bunker hummed quietly as they landed, and Alex's feet had barely touched the ground before Lucifer was gone again, his wings carrying him away. Alex frowned as he left, and she let her grace stretch out through the bunker in search of Sam and Dean. There was nothing; the bunker was empty. With a shrug, Alex started off down the hallway towards the library.

Her duffle bag was on the war room table, and next to it lay a folded sheet of paper, her name scrawled across the top in Sam's writing.

 _Alex. Dean and I are out in Wisconsin. Call when you get in. Talk to you later, Sam._

"Huh." Alex dug her phone out of her pocket and dialed Sam's number as she slung her bag over her shoulder. It rang once, then twice, and then three times, and then the line clicked. "Hey, Sam, this a good time?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah." Sam's voice rattled through the line, and Alex started down the hallway with a pleased hum. "How'd it go? Did you find Duke?"

"I found him, and Duke is _no mas_. His hellhounds are on their way back to hell, too. They disbanded after he died," she lied after a moment's thought. The shadows flickered off to her left, and Alex's eyes turned towards it. "And I, uh … ran into … into Lucifer. More like he ran into me," she quickly added before Sam could speak. "Apparently, uh, being bonded to Cas makes me an easy target to find. He … sends his regards."

She paused at the intersection of the hallway, her wings twitching nervously as Sam sighed. "He said that?"

"Sort of. He … he healed my eye. He called it, uh —" _A sign of good faith._ Lucifer's voice echoed in her head; Alex whipped around in search of the source, but nothing but empty hallways met her eyes. "He called it a sign of good faith," she repeated.

Sam was silent, and Alex started towards her bedroom, adjusting how her bag hung from her shoulder as she awaited his response. "I'm glad you're okay," he finally said. "Just be careful. He's dangerous."

"I know." Alex flicked a dismissive wing. "Anyways, I just got back to the bunker and saw your note. Why are you guys in Wisconsin?"

"It was Dean's idea. Bobby's got an old storage facility up here, and we thought maybe there might be something about the Darkness or about helping Cas or — or who knows."

Alex nudged open her bedroom door with a quiet huff. "Well?" she asked when Sam's silence lengthened. "Have you guys found anything?" She tossed her bag onto the bed and leaned up against the foot of the mattress, her nails clicking on the side of her phone.

"We've got nothing. We're going to bring all of this stuff back to the bunker to go through it again in more detail, but it's not looking promising." Sam ended with a heavy sigh, and Alex heard Dean's voice in the distance, sharp with agitation. "I need to go," Sam finally said. "I'll text you when we leave."

"Alright. Drive safe."

The bed dipped, and Alex hung up with a muted curse. She could feel Lucifer behind her, sagging against the mattress, and she turned in time to watch him gently cradle the back of his head with a low groan. "Where's tweedledumb and tweedledumber? Thought they'd all over this joint."

"They're just leaving Wisconsin." Alex circled around to stand at Lucifer's side, hesitantly reaching out to examine his head. "Hey, how's that doing? It is not healing?"

"It's taking longer than it should because of that damn rod. Flying seems to make it worse." Under Alex's persistence, Lucifer reluctantly leaned forward, hissing as her fingers danced across his hair. "Be careful. It hurts."

"Of course it hurts." Alex studied the bloody cut with a thin frown. "It's not deep, but you've split your scalp open pretty good. Let me clean it up." She crossed over to her dresser and dug out a first-aid kit, ignoring how the archangel muttered out his displeasure. "You weren't gone long. Where'd you go?"

She ripped open a gauze pad and pressed it up against the cut, and the archangel hissed in surprise. "I went to hell. I have — ow! — I have demons clearing out Crowley's locker to see if — ouch! — to see if they find anything. What are you doing?"

"I'm working. Shut up." Alex pressed the gauze into the open cut. "What about you? And what — what about Crowley?"

"Crowley." Lucifer spat the name out. "Once he finds what he's looking for, he'll come for me. And for you to get to me." His grace twisted, and Alex suddenly found herself on the bed in between his legs, her back up against his chest and his nose buried in the crook of her shoulder. "If the Winchesters aren't here, I think I'll stick around here until I'm healed."

"And then?"

"And then I'm going back to hell and I'm sending Ramsey after him." The words were muffled, spoken into her skin, and Alex shifted at his cold breath. "And if that doesn't work … and then I think you and I will pay heaven a visit. Our return is long overdue." He settled back into her pillows, pulling her with him, and Alex turned so she was on her side, curled up against his chest. "How does that sound to you, _le pas agi_?"

 _My little one_. Alex stifled a sigh as she pressed her cheek into his shirt, her fingers wrapped around the silk tie. "It sounds like fun," she admitted. "Except, the angels there … they don't exactly like me." Lucifer laughed, his chest rising and falling beneath her, and she added, "And they _really_ don't like you, so I don't know how you plan to get in."

Cold arms enveloped her, holding her close as Lucifer closed his eyes. "How long have you known me?" he asked with an amused flick of his wingtips. "I always find a way to get what I want." His grace curled around hers, and for several seconds he was silent. "You should rest," he finally said. "Once I'm back on my feet, I'm going to return to hell. You'll come with me."

"I shouldn't." Alex rolled off of the devil, propping herself up on an elbow as she looked down at him. "Sam and Dean will wonder where I am." Lucifer's eyes flashed orange, his grace twisting anxiously, and she settled back down next to him, cheek resting on his shoulder. "We can talk more about it when you're feeling better," she finally decided, and she felt the archangel's grace relax ever so slightly. "For now, just try and rest."


	39. For What It's Worth

**Yikes! Sorry this is late - my boyfriend's sister had her baby today so I've been at the hospital :)**

 **Here's another original chapter**

* * *

 **...**

 **March 1st, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** lex made her way down the bunker hallway, her broken wings dragging behind her as she stifled a yawn. The rooms around her were quiet, void of life, and the angel scrubbed at the back of her neck as she tugged on the hem of her wrinkled shirt. She hadn't remembered falling asleep, but somehow she had, and when she had awoken, Sam and Dean were gone.

The kitchen lay ahead, and Alex stepped through the doorway, her eyes scanning the concrete room. A blue post-it note sat stuck to the white refrigeration units, and Alex pulled it off with a grunt. " 'Gone out for lunch and groceries, Dean,' " she read aloud. "Coulda just texted." She crumpled up the note and tossed it towards the trash can; it hit the wall too high and bounced across the cold floor. It had been two weeks since Sam and Dean had returned from Wisconsin, full of determination to finally find a lead with Amara or with Castiel, but Alex had watched that vigor slowly die as the days grew longer. Personally, she hadn't shared in their resolution; if even Lucifer was at a loss, then Alex couldn't bring herself to put her trust in a few dusty books.

The inside of the fridge was sparse and cold, and Alex pulled out a beer bottle with a small sigh; that sigh quickly turned into a tight-lipped gasp as she felt hands grab her waist. She whipped around, wings rising defensively in her tight corner even as the perpetrator spoke. "Boo." Lucifer stepped back with a grin. "Did I scare you?"

"No." The lie came quickly, and Alex shook out her ruffled wings with a huff. "What the hell are you doing here? Sam and Dean —"

"Sam and Dean aren't around." Lucifer's eyes dropped down to the bottle in her hand, and he added, "You know, it's been two weeks since Crowley escaped."

"Yeah, I know. I can count." Alex pushed past the archangel with a grunt. "And? Has Ramsey found him yet?" She leaned up against the metal countertop, awaiting Lucifer's reaction, but the frown upon his face said it all. "Still nothing, huh?"

"I was thinking." Lucifer burst out the question, and Alex used her grace to crack open her drink. "How about you and I take a vacation? I think we've earned it." He sauntered forward, and Alex's head snapped to the side, her grace nervously stretching out through the bunker. "They're not here. And they won't be back any time soon."

"What?" Alex returned her eyes onto him, her wings curled forward slightly to keep the archangel from drawing too close. "What did you do?"

"Oh, ye of little faith." Crimson wings nudged hers aside, and Alex took a long drink of her beer before Lucifer stepped forward. He took the bottle from her hands and set it on the counter behind her with a dismissive flick of his wings. "I made sure that a particular story about a comatose little girl got into the papers, and then I made sure that a certain Sam Winchester got his hands on said paper." His toes were pressed up against hers, and Alex leaned further back against the counter to put distance between their faces even as his wings curled around her.

"They're not going to take a job right now," she retorted. "They're too hung up on the Darkness and on you — er, on Cas. It's all they've been doing since they got back."

"And from what I understand, they haven't found anything." Lucifer clicked his tongue even as amusement sparked in his eyes. "Trust me, _le mohoath_ , they'll bite." He stepped back, his crimson wings retreating to fold in against his back. "Why don't you change into something more appropriate, and we can hit the road."

Alex's eyes dropped down to her wrinkled, oversized shirt and basketball shorts, fighting back a scowl. "Fine," she relented. "You're right that I need to change, but I'm still not sold on a field trip." She ignored Lucifer's quiet laugh as she led the way down the hall, but her frustration was short-lived as the archangel caught up to walk at her side. "Wait here, I'm going to change," she instructed as she stepped into her room. She kicked the door closed behind her, but she heard it bounce off of a foot with a dull _thud_. "Luce," she admonished as the archangel pressed the door shut behind him. "At least — at least turn around."

"Why?" Lucifer leaned up against the door, his arms crossed as he fixed his eyes on her. "I've been inside you."

Heat burned at Alex's cheeks, and her wings flapped indignantly. "You've been in my _head_ a-and you — it's a matter of principle, okay? Just turn around." Alex twirled her finger, but when the archangel merely grinned, she whirled around with a huff. "Fine. Fine. _I'll_ turn around."

She hurriedly changed, pulling on a pair of worn jeans and a purple sweatshirt. A glance in the cracked mirror at her unruly hair had a black hat joining the outfit, the scuffed brim pointed backwards. "You're an ass, by the way," she added when she turned back around, unsurprised to find the devil standing two paces closer than he had been before.

"And you're cute when you're angry." Hands cupped her cheeks as lips pressed up against hers, and Alex tilted her head back to meet the kiss, her anger dissipating beneath his cold touch. "Now, about this trip —"

The bunker door slammed shut, and Alex jumped back with a muted curse. "Shit, they're back." She rushed out of her room, barely pulling the door closed in time as Sam stepped into view. "I, uh — hey." Alex shook out her wings, chasing away her surprise. "I was — I wasn't expecting you guys back yet."

"Uh, yeah." Sam stopped in front of her with a smile. "Sorry we ran out like that, but we thought we'd let you sleep." He reached out behind her to flick at the brim of her hat, and his grin widened. "Looking good. Trying out something new?"

Alex knocked his hand away with a playful scowl. "It's called I can't control my hair," she quipped, and her grace reached out in search of Dean. "So, I guess you're back for another few mindless hours of reading, huh?"

Sam's grin faltered, defeat momentarily clouding his face. "Actually," he admitted, "I think I found case up in Michigan. A little girl wound up in a coma after what the mom is just calling 'an entity.' Doctors don't know what's wrong — the only sign of trauma is a handprint from the alleged attacker."

"Oh." Alex barely stopped herself from glancing back towards her room where Lucifer still hid; she could feel his grace pushing against hers from the other side of the door. "That definitely sounds like our kind of thing. I —" She hesitated, searching for some excuse — any excuse. "I was just thinking about heading down south, actually. I think I caught wind of what could be a ghoul, but if you guys have a job of your own …"

Sam's face fell. "Oh, okay. Listen, if — I know you've sort of been avoiding us these past couple weeks, but you don't have to. I-I mean, Lucifer screwed all of us over, you know? It's not your fault if he fooled you, too."

"Thanks, Sam." Alex curled her wings forward towards the Winchester, the tips of her broken feathers brushing against his side. "And it's not that. It's just … hard to explain."

Her shoulders fell as her wings drooped, and Sam shifted closer. "If you need to talk, I'm here," he promised. "Just let me know." He squeezed her shoulder, and something flickered in his hazel eyes, gone too quick to tell, before he moved off down the hall.

Alex sighed as he disappeared into his room, and she took a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose before she slipped back into her bedroom. The lights were off, and a soft darkness cloaked the walls. "Okay." She quietly closed the door behind her, eyes closing as she felt Lucifer stop in front of her. "You were right. Let's wait for them to leave, and then we can go."

...

 **S** now whipped through the air, billowing around her feet, and Alex shifted, her eyes narrowed against the cold. Lucifer stood beside her, seemingly unaffected by the biting wind, but even his own wings were drawn in tighter than usual. "So that's heaven's gate." His eyes were focused on the playground in the distance, and Alex shifted closer despite the chill to his grace. "It's not what I expected."

"It's not what anyone expected." Alex couldn't hold back a shiver, and a crimson wing unfolded to wrap across her shoulder. "We just can't walk in there, though. It's bound to be guarded." She felt his wings shift, and she jumped to add, "We're _not_ killing them, Luce. There's not enough angels left just to kill them whenever it suits you."

"You say that like I enjoy killing angels." Lucifer stepped away from her, pacing back and forth along the line of trees at the edge of the park. "Alright, hotshot, so how do you propose we get in?"

"We could …" Alex furrowed her brow as she thought, her small hands shoved deep inside her jacket. "What — what about a banishing sigil? Or would that affect the angel who activates it, too?"

"It would." Lucifer brushed past with a frown, and Alex leaned up against a tree trunk to watch him pace. "But perhaps we can distract them." He stopped in front of her, his face pensive as he brushed his knuckles across her cheek. "Think you can help out?"

"Whatever you need." Alex's eyes flickered off towards the sandbox, but Lucifer nudged her chin upwards until her eyes found his. "As long as we don't have to kill anyone."

"Promise." Lucifer's eyes drifted upwards, lost in thought as he formulated a plan. "I want you to go and get their attention," he finally instructed. "And see if you can lure any guards on the other side out here. I'll take care of the rest."

"Okay." Alex rustled her feathers as the archangel disappeared in a flutter of wings, and her grace prickled nervously as she started out from the line of trees. Two angels sat on the swings, their dark, bent feathers ruffled against the cold. Alex tipped her head as she approached, eyes narrowed as she searched her memory for their names. Ah, that was right. Purah and Asariel.

She drew her broken wings in tightly as two pairs of eyes turned onto her, and the air crackled as both angels rose to their feet. "Stop." Purah lifted a hand, her eyes glowing weakly with grace, but Alex kept pushing forward through the snowdrifts, only ceasing when the glint of an angel blade caught her attention.

"Whoa, there," Alex warned, and her eyes flickered towards the sandbox, the sand conspicuously lacking snow. "We're on the same team here, right? I just want to go upstairs."

"You're not allowed up there," Asariel said, and her wings lifted high above her head.

Alex met the challenge, puffing out her bare feathers to appear bigger than she truly was. "Like that's somehow going to stop me." Her eyes flickered down to the sandbox as her angel blade slipped into her hand. _Careful_ , she heard Lucifer warn softly, _get them away, but don't get yourself killed._ Alex's wing twitched at his words, but she forced her eyes back up onto the guards before her. "There's not anyone on the other side of that door I'm going to have to worry about once I kick your asses, right?"

The sandbox glowed, and Alex shifted back as an angel stepped through, his wings flapping angrily at the sight of her. "Who is she?" he demanded, and snow crunched beneath his boots as he stepped forward.

"Castiel's mate." Asariel all but spat out the name, and Alex couldn't help how her grace snapped angrily, cracking through the cold air. "She's trying to get into heaven."

 _Good work_. The trees trembled around them, and Alex's head whipped towards the source, eyes stretching wide at the light that emanated from within the woods. "What is that?" Purah's wings rustled uneasily, and her eyes sharpened in accusation. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything." Alex stepped back, forcing a tremble into her voice. "There were demons, but —" She cut off, and the three angels exchanged looks, a silent conversation passing between them before they fanned out and started towards the light.

"Good work." Lucifer's voice whispered in her ear, and Alex barely had time to process her surprise before his hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the sandbox. White light surrounded her, pressing down on every inch of her body and crushing her bones.

Then the pressure was gone, and her feet were on solid ground. She was standing in a hallway, the white walls almost glowing with light. "Easy peasy," was all she managed to get out before Lucifer was pulling her around the corner, pressing her into the wall and covering her lips with a cold finger. Alex tensed, her wings drawn in tightly against the warm wall, but the hallway remained silent. _What?_ She mouthed the word against Lucifer's finger, and the archangel hesitated only a moment before he pulled away.

"Thought I heard someone coming." Lucifer started down the hall with a flick of his wing, and Alex hurried after him. "I see they've redecorated," he added, dragging a finger across the spotless wall. "It feels like a doctor's office."

"Yeah. I don't like it." Alex quickened her step to walk at his side with a disparaging click of her tongue. "When did heaven become so corporate, you know? It's like they're going to fight the Darkness through donuts and memos."

"What happened?" Lucifer wiped his hand off on his coat with a scowl. "Michael would never have allowed this."

"I don't think it was Michael. They did this after he went into the Cage. I've only been up here a few times — apart from when I was living in that heaven." Alex shook out her wings, uncomfortable with how the air pulsed around her. "Speaking of, the personal heavens are around here somewhere …"

She trailed off when she realized Lucifer wasn't listening, and she reached out to take his hand. "I'll take you to the Great Hall where my brothers and I grew up," he finally promised. "Once everything is back under control, of course."

They rounded the corner, and his grip on her hand suddenly tightened. An angel stood in the hallway, his brown wings lifted high above his head in shock. "Lucifer." His eyes flickered between the two of them, and Alex pulled her wings in tight.

She felt Lucifer's surprise dissipate, fading back into cold confidence. "Jofiel," he greeted, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "How's it hanging? Easy there," he added when the angel cast a panicked look around the halls. "It's just me."

Jofiel's face hardened at the joke, and his wings lifted higher. "How perfect. Castiel, one of heaven's most wanted, possessed by heaven's most hated." His eyes swung down to Alex, and he sneered. "We always feared you'd let him back out."

"It wasn't me!" Alex snapped, but Lucifer quieted her with a flick of his wing.

"We come in peace," he promised, his hands and wings dropping low in a display of innocence. "I just want to be part of the action again. I want to lend a hand."

Jofiel looked between the two of them, fear and hesitation dancing in his eyes. His wings tremored, and after only a second, he spun around. "Brothers!" he shouted. "I —"

Lucifer's grace snapped outwards, and Jofiel vanished, his vessel exploding into ash tinged with blue grace. The hallway fell silent, and Alex whipped around. "What the hell?" she hissed, her voice sounding loud in the silent hall. "You _promised_ you wouldn't kill anyone!"

"I promised I wouldn't kill anyone who was at the gate." Lucifer started off down the hall, and Alex followed, carefully skirting the ash that decorated the white tile floor. "And what was I supposed to do? He was sounding the alarm."

"So? That's why we're here. We're not just here to sneak around for fun. Right, Luce?"

Alex tugged on Lucifer's sleeve, and the archangel turned to face her with a roll of his eyes. "Of course you're right," he murmured, one finger pressed against his lips to signal that she stay quiet. "Just — stick close and let me do all the talking, okay?"

"Lucifer." A voice came from ahead of them, and Alex peered past the archangel towards its source. Three angels blocked their way, and Alex's wings flapped twice in alarm. "What are you doing here?"

Lucifer's reaction was mere amusement as he turned. "Dumah," he greeted. "And Sidriel and … it's Jehudiel, right?" His question remained unanswered, and the archangel grinned. "Long time no see, huh?" He strolled forward, his wings hanging loosely against his back, but the angels stiffened all the same, their wings rising and blades falling into view. "I'm just here to talk, alright? Maybe something about the Darkness."

He watched as the angels exchanged looks, and he grinned when Dumah's wings flittered nervously. "What do you know about the Darkness?" she asked.

"Tell you what. Why don't you gather up everyone who's around here, and we can have a little chat. Just hear me out," he added, his voice growing darker when Dumah's eyes turned onto the pile of ash behind him, "and no one else gets hurt, alright?"

The two angels at Dumah's side waited only a second before they scattered, hurrying off in opposite directions down the hall, and Lucifer's lips curled up into a grin. "Follow me," Dumah instructed, and Lucifer ushered Alex forward with his wings before he obeyed.

Dumah led the way down the twisting halls, leaving Alex and Lucifer to follow in silence. The air continued to hum around her, and Alex tugged on Lucifer's sleeve. "Hey," she whispered, leaning upwards to try and get closer to his ear. "This place feels … weird. What is it?"

"Weird?" The archangel's smug look momentarily faltered, and his grace pressed curiously against hers. "Ah. You've never been here with your grace at full strength, have you?" His question was answered by Alex's puzzled frown, and his grace withdrew. "What you're feeling is Heaven. That's the power of every angel here."

"We're here." Dumah motioned to a set of frosted office doors, and Lucifer pushed his way inside with a small shrug.

Alex followed close behind, her eyes turning across the large white room. "The hell is this, a conference room?" she muttered, eyeing two angels who stood in the far corner.

"Jehudiel and Sidriel are gathering whoever they can find." Dumah's voice was tight, her displeasure clear, but Lucifer merely flicked a wing to show his thanks. He settled down in a chair by the wall, and Alex moved past him, reaching out to pull up a seat next to him; Lucifer, however, was faster, pulling her down into his lap. His grace held her tight as she tried to struggle free, but she gave quickly gave up when eyes turned in her direction.

She felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment, caught in the devil's lap for all of Heaven to see, and Lucifer's grace curled tightly around her. Five more angels entered, followed almost immediately by three more, and Alex curled her broken wings around her to try and hide. "Stop that," Lucifer chastised, his breath cold against her ear, and his hands released her waist. "Alright, go ahead and get up." He let Alex scramble to her feet before following, pulling her into a quick, sharp kiss before stepping away.

"You fucking suck," she muttered after him, and Lucifer's grace twisted in sadistic amusement as he turned to address the gathering crowd. They had gathered around the table in the room, occupying the empty chairs, and Lucifer rapped his knuckles on the white tabletop.

"Okay, guys," he began, "eyes up here, okay?" He whistled, and the last few eyes turned away from Alex. "So, trying to smite the Darkness was a bust, huh? You had all the power of heaven behind you. Couldn't even slow the bitch down." He chuckled, and some of the angels exchanged glances. "Well, no need to feel like subject losers — you learned a valuable lesson. You need me." Lucifer grinned as he looked around, wings spread open, but his declaration was met with stony silence. The archangel's grin faltered slightly. "Alright. Not giddy with awe."

"You … exploded Jofiel." That was Jehudiel — or Sidriel, Alex couldn't tell.

Lucifer pointed off towards the angel as a low murmur spread through the crowd. "Or did Jofiel explode himself?" he joked with a small shrug. "Just saying."

"God cast you from heaven," another angel said, and Alex hurried forward to stand at Lucifer's side as she felt his anger start to sharpen.

She reached up to put a hand on his shoulder, but the archangel roughly shrugged it off. "And who do you think spread that tabloid headline?" he challenged, turning to face the speaker. The angel was seated in a chair by the wall, and two steps took Lucifer to his side. "It was Captain G," he reminded, straddling the angel's lap, and the quiet room grew even quieter; not an angel breathed. "The eternal one." He chuckled to himself, his forehead momentarily pressing up against the angel's, and Alex watched as the angel's thin wings trembled in fear in the face of Lucifer himself. "Because I didn't buy into His _obsessive-compulsive_ love for mankind."

"Mankind is His creation." Jehudiel spoke again, and Lucifer pushed himself back to his feet; the angel below him drew in a shuddered breath as the archangel stepped away.

"Oh, come on!" Lucifer's crimson wings arched high as he paced the length of the room, taking his time to look each angel in the eyes. "It's not like he invented the Prius, which actually works. I don't have to tell you people what a mess mankind is. The Salem Witch Trials, Third Reich, Twin Towers?" He stopped in front of Alex with a scoff, and the young angel diverted her eyes onto the ground. "And," he added, turning back to face Jehudiel, "sure, every once and awhile, He'll send down a little plague to straighten them out, but it's nothing permanent. Humanity brought us Hiroshima and got a redo. I merely question His priorities … and I got the boot."

"He said you're evil —" The second angel immediately cut himself off as Lucifer's eyes narrowed, and Jehudiel cleared his throat.

"Incarnate," he finished; his voice was calm, but his anxiety was evident through how his dark wings twitched. "Evil incarnate."

Lucifer's feathers ruffled, his wings puffing out, but he only let a lazy smirk grow across his face. "It's marketing. He's creating a need in the consumer's mind." His wing dragged across Alex's stomach, a low purr momentarily rumbling through his chest. "You can't be a Super Savior if you don't have a super villain."

"We're just offering you help with dealing with the Darkness," Alex added, stepping forward. She felt Lucifer's good mood fade away, replaced by irritation at her decision to speak, but the young angel ignored him. "Obviously you can't do it alone. Not … with so few of you."

More than one sets of wings rustled angrily, and Alex lifted her chin, jaw clenched to keep it from trembling as she faced the stares. "You think you can reason with her?" an angel called out.

Alex felt Lucifer approach, and she flattened her wings as he stopped behind her. "Well, I doubt that," he admitted. "But I can lock her away. This time for good. Done it before." One hand wrapped around her waist, holding her close as he watched the angels exchange glances, their expressions a mixture of confusion and unease. "Oh, Pops didn't tell you that, huh?"

Once you've … gotten rid of her, you'll want … want to … stay around?" Jehudiel spoke slowly, and Alex felt Lucifer's grin against her ear.

"Oh, I like the way you think." Lucifer stepped away from Alex, clapping his hands together as he let her eyes travel across the congregation. "Man, I am jazzed!" he joked, and his tongue darted out across his lips as the angels shifted uncomfortably. "Hey." He leaned up against the wall, crossing his arms as he let out a grin. "If it makes you comfy, you can call _me_ God."

"You don't have to do that," Alex hurried to add, and her small wings drew in tight as all eyes turned onto her. "They're not going to do that," she added over to Lucifer in a quiet voice, and the archangel's eyes crinkled, amused at her comment.

"Come here, little one." Lucifer waved her over, and Alex joined him, pressing herself into his side. The room fell silent, the only sound the occasional awkward shifting, and finally Lucifer sighed. "Tell you what. Why don't you all sleep on it." He straightened up, wings extending towards the door, and the angels hesitated only a moment before they started filing out; the air crackled with their grace, their discomfort clear.

Lucifer wandered over to hold open the door, seemingly unaware of their nerves. "Thank you," he called to one the leaving angels, reaching out to catch another by the shoulder. "Hey, I like your spunk," he praised, and the angel's face visibly paled. "There's always room for a go-getter in my organization." He winked, letting go, and the angel rushed away. Jehudiel tried to slip past, but Lucifer caught him by the arm and dragged him back, his other hand going up to grab him by the back of the neck. "Hey, I know I can count on you. But what about your people? They on board, or we need to do a little wing-twisting?"

Jehudiel's eyes stretched wide at Lucifer's grin, and his chest rapidly rose and fell in barely-contained panic. "I — I'll have to think about it," he got out, his wings trembling once before he stilled them.

"Don't think about it too long." Lucifer released his grip, and Jehudiel skirted the archangel before hurrying away, leaving Lucifer to point after him. "You know what they say. He who hesitates …" He snapped his fingers, and the smile faded away. "Disintegrates."

The room emptied, leaving Alex standing alone beside Lucifer. "Well?" she asked. "Did that go how you'd always dreamed?"

"I was hoping for a little more pomp and circumstance. Maybe some cheering." Lucifer crossed the room to lean against one of the white tables, and Alex joined him, standing with her toes up against his. "You know, it's been how many centuries since I've been gone? So much for forgive and forget."

The confident humor that had filled him during his speech was fading, and his wings dropped as he sulked. Alex curled hers forward, and Lucifer reluctantly responded, his own wings wrapping around her, enveloping her in red. "Maybe you just have to rebuild their trust," she murmured, pressing her grace against his. "Right now you're just the guy who Dad threw out for breaking the rules. Show them how much more you can be."

There was a knock on the door, and Alex stepped back, her eyes narrowed. An angel stood in the doorway, her hands tucked behind her back, and Alex's wings flittered in surprise and elation as grace prickled curiously at the air. "Excuse me." The angel shifted nervously, and Lucifer's wings fell away. "I — Dumah said I shouldn't come, but I think he felt you and insisted."

Alex felt Lucifer's grace rise curiously as she crossed over to the door, her eyes locked on the small pair of grey wings that were tucked behind the angel's legs. "I would have asked for him, anyways." head peeked out from the other side, blue eyes wide with a mixture of hesitation and excitement, and Alex crouched down a few feet away. "Hello, _micaelaz_."

Ashiel looked up at the angel that held his hand, a question in his eyes, but the hesitation died when Alex reached out with her grace. He moved forward with a small grin, a grin that faltered when he caught sight of the archangel behind her. "Who … who is that?"

He looked back up at his caretaker, and Alex pulled him closer by the arm, drawing his attention onto her. "It's okay," she promised. "He's my new friend." She flicked a wing, signaling for the other angel to give them a moment, and she brushed Ashiel's hair out of his eyes with a grin. "You're getting big, aren't you? You must be four, almost five by now."

"Four." Ashiel held up four fingers with a confident nod, and his gaze slipped back onto Lucifer. "You … you have wings." He flapped his own twice, blue eyes moving between Lucifer's crimson feathers and Alex's burned vanes. "You — the angels don't have wings anymore." His round face fell as he lisped out the words. "O-Oriel said they fell."

Alex felt Lucifer's presence behind her, and he looked down at Ashiel, his head tipped to the side. "So this must be the fledgling you told me about," he mused, and his cold grace stretched out to wrap around the child, moving curiously like a wolf sniffing a newfound pup. "Asahiel."

"Ashiel," Alex corrected, and she rose to her feet, one hand resting on the back of the fledgling's head. "I'm surprised you remembered."

"I always remember my competition." Lucifer crouched down in front of Ashiel, his large wings sweeping across the tiled floor to brush gently against the fledgling's legs. "You're not afraid of me, are you? Not like everyone else around here."

"I'm not afraid," Ashiel chirped, and his hands went out to Lucifer's wings, hovering just above them; Lucifer lifted them the last inch, and Ashiel grinned as he grabbed at the large crimson feathers. "Why …" His face screwed up in confusion, and he looked up into Lucifer's eyes. "Why are your w-wings so big?"

"Because I'm an archangel." Lucifer scooped him up into his arms, and Alex couldn't help but smile at the grin that grew across his face. "One day, maybe yours will grow as big as mine."

Ashiel giggled as Lucifer tapped him on the nose, and his pale grey wings flapped twice joyfully as he looked over at Alex. "And …"

"Don't worry, bud. Mom's gonna get her wings back one day." Lucifer's words were accompanied by a wink, and Alex rolled her eyes as he gently bounced the child on his hip. "When do fledglings start to fly?" he asked, a crimson wing flicking against Alex's back, but before she could answer, he added, "Doesn't matter. Looks like I'm the only one qualified to teach you."

"Oriel says — says I'm not allowed to fly," Ashiel insisted, and his eyes turned onto Alex as he spoke. "Not until I'm big like you."

There was a knocking on the glass door, and Alex turned her head to find Oriel standing in the doorway. "Looks like it's time for you to go." She reached out for Ashiel, and Lucifer hesitated only a moment before reluctantly handing the fledgling over. "Oriel's been keeping you safe, huh?" Ashiel nodded, and Alex pressed a kiss onto his temple before she set him back down, grunting dramatically under his weight. "You're almost too big to pick up," she joked, and Ashiel's wings flittered as he giggled. "Alright, buddy, I'll see you in a bit, okay —"

She cut off as the ground began to shake, and the lights flickered angrily above their heads. Alex immediately scooped Ashiel back up, pressing his head into the crook of her shoulder as screams began to fill the air, sharp with panic. Angels appeared in the hallway, running towards the conference room where Alex and Lucifer stood, and Alex's hair stood on end as black smoke chased after them, billowing through the hall. Angels went flying whenever it over took them, throwing them to the ground, and Alex curled her wings around her even as Lucifer stepped forward, calmly pulling her out of the way as angels flooded through the glass doors. "Get down." He pulled her down to the ground as the smoke smashed through the windows, his crimson wings hiding her from sight. Ashiel screamed, thrashing in fear, and Alex felt Lucifer's grace slip out to wrap around him.

She narrowed her eyes against the onslaught, and through the smoke she saw Lucifer's face, alight with a broad grin. "This —" The smoke was beginning to dissipate, and Alex loosened her grip on Ashiel even as her wings trembled in fear. "What was that?"

"Amara." Lucifer hopped back to his feet before he reached down to help her up, taking Ashiel back into his arms as he looked around at the angels. "Well that … was a little payback, ladies and gents." Ashiel sniffled, and he gently tapped the fledgling on the nose with a comforting smile. "I don't think Auntie Amara appreciated their little half-assed smiting, huh?" He set Ashiel back down onto the ground, and Alex pulled him close, kneeling down to wipe the tears from the fledgling's eyes as Lucifer continued. "And, uh, guess what. This … this is just a teeny taste of what's to come. So, clearly my expertise is gonna come in handy. Cause God know what's next —" He cut himself off with a small wince. "Ouch. I almost forgot, um … God doesn't care."

"Oriel." Alex waved the angel over, taking Ashiel's hand as she rose to her feet. "Take him somewhere safe."

"He's safer with us," Lucifer insisted, and Alex flicked him with a wingtip as she handed the fledgling over.

"He's safer in heaven," she retorted. "We have enough to deal with without worrying about a kid." She circled around to stand in front of Lucifer as the angels began to once again disperse, and she reached up to straighten the collar of his jacket. Lucifer's hands caught her wrist, and she paused, waiting until the room was emptied before she let her wings fall down. "There's got to be a way to stop Amara from reaching heaven. If Ashiel …"

"Don't worry." Lucifer cut her off with a gentle flick of his wing. "She's trying to draw us out. If she wanted to destroy us, she would have." He pulled her hands away from his coat, running his thumb across her knuckles. "We need to find a Hand of God."

"What if … what if we didn't find it here … but in the past? We did it once," Alex insisted when Lucifer hesitated. "The demons are scouring the earth right now. So let's scour the earth a couple thousand years ago."

"That's dangerous," Lucifer warned, but his eyes sparkled at her suggestion. "If we affect the future …"

Alex shrugged. "Yeah, yeah, I've seen the movies. We'll be careful. In and out before anyone even notices." She watched as the archangel's lips pursed, his eyes flickering towards the door, and she pressed her grace against his. "They'll be fine for a few hours."

"I'm not worried about them." Lucifer's forehead pressed up against hers, and Alex closed her eyes with a small hum. "Let's go."

...

 **A** hot breeze brushed past Alex, stirring her feathers, and the young angel shifted uncomfortably on the packed dirt road. "Where are we?" she asked, turning her eyes to the rocky walls around her. They were standing between two stone buildings, each resting close enough to give her no more than two feet of space on each side of her, but the bustle of city life could be heard beyond its confines.

She felt Lucifer's grace twitch in amusement, and she cast a look up into his face. "We're in Athens, roughly 300 BC." Lucifer started towards the bustling street, and Alex hesitated only a moment before she hurried after him. "I checked through Castiel's memories for a point in time when the angels weren't hyper focused on current events. Can't have Big Brother seeing me, you know?" He chuckled at his own joke, but Alex simply nodded in understanding. "This seemed like the perfect time. Everyone upstairs is getting ready for the big christmas party, and God's chosen few are finally settling down. Perfect picking grounds."

Most of his words were lost on her, and Alex shrugged. "Okay, uh … great." She rolled up the sleeves of her sweatshirt as they stepped into the hot, busy street, and she reached down to take Lucifer's cool hand. "Why Athens? Why not — I dunno — Jerusalem?"

"Nah." Lucifer clicked his tongue disparagingly. "Too high-profile. Besides, Athens is a big place, and the Jews are just starting to move in. If any God-infused items made it out of the Holy Land, Athens is where they're going to be." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he looked up and down the street, and Alex drew her wings in close as two men in blue cloaks brushed past, deep in conversation. "Now, all we have to do is find it."

"Why don't we just ask?" Alex reached out to catch one of the men by her, tugging him gently on the sleeve. "Uh, excuse me," she began, "we're, uh — do you know if there's any Jewish synagogues in the area? I …" She trailed off, head tipping at the stranger's wide-eyed expression, and her wings flittered in confusion. He didn't just look surprised; he looked aghast. "You okay?"

"Excuse me?" The man's eyes darted between Lucifer and Alex before returning once again to Lucifer. "You'd do well to keep your wife under control —"

"Oh, we — we're not married," Alex jumped to insist, and she felt an arm wrap around her waist as the stranger's face paled.

"Of course we are." Lucifer pressed his lips against her temple, and she frowned as he turned to face the strangers. "You'll have to forgive her. She's from the north and is still adjusting to … civilized life." He pulled her away, and Alex's wings bristled. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing! I just asked him a question." Alex glared back towards the stranger, but Lucifer cuffed her over the head.

"This isn't the twenty-first century." Crimson wings enveloped her, a cold presence, and Alex gave a sulking frown, hands shoved deep into her pockets. "You have to play by society's rules. Which means you're supposed to be seen, not heard." The hand around her waist fell away, but his wings stayed curled around her, keeping her close. "Just stick close to me. I'll get us there."

"That's stupid." Alex adjusted her hat with a small scowl, sidestepping closer to the archangel to let a mule-drawn cart rattle past. "I'm great at talking to people."

"You better let me do the talking." Lucifer tugged her down the street, falling silent, but they had barely walked a block before he spoke again. "So that was Ashiel, huh? Seems like a nice kid."

Alex couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, uh, he is," she agreed. "You should have seen him when he was younger. He could charm anything out of anyone he wanted with those eyes of his. And he wasn't afraid of anything — I mean _anything._ " Her grace curled happily within her, and she couldn't help the grin that spread across her face.

"I think he liked me, you know?" Lucifer joked, and he cast a quick glance over at her. "Right? He liked me." He didn't wait for Alex's confirmation before he continued, "I've never seen a fledgling before — I'd never even heard of one until I came topside. The whole _Enaaish_ phase didn't even begin until after I was underground. He's bigger than I expected. He was so small in your mind —"

"Yeah, he's grown a lot." Alex cut him off with a small shake of her head, and she gave Lucifer's hand a sharp squeeze as he pulled her around the corner. "Hey, look!" She pointed up the street towards a marble temple that gleamed in the afternoon sun. "That's pretty. What is it?"

"Hephaestus' temple. I think we'll avoid any pagans god for the time being, hmm? Don't want to ring too many bells." Lucifer's grace stretched out through the roads, and Alex pushed hers out alongside his, using his to strengthen her own.

"Good idea. Especially because you _kill_ a lot of them two thousand years from now." Alex reluctantly drew her grace back in with a tight-lipped frown. "Okay, Sherlock, take the lead."

"Hey." Lucifer stopped in front of a street merchant's stall, rapping twice on the wooden counter to get the man's attention. "So, I'm new here in this part of town. Any chance you can point a guy in the right direction?"

The merchant's brow furrowed as he regarded the two angels. "I'll do my best," he finally said. "You must be from … from the North?" Lucifer merely smiled; the innocent action was spoiled by how his eyes narrowed — if Alex didn't know him better, she could have sworn he looked like a snake ready to strike. The merchant swallowed nervously, and his brown eyes darted over to Alex as his tongue peeked out to lick at his lips.

"We're looking for the nearest synagogue," she explained, placing a gentle hand on Lucifer's arm. "We need to speak with a rabbi. Please," she quickly added as she felt Lucifer's grace twitch displeasingly at her input.

The archangel's cold disposition had clearly offset the merchant, as he barely spared Alex a second look. "There's one by Athena's temple," he said. "You can't miss it. The rabbi's always there."

His eyes dropped down to his wares, and Alex stepped away from the stall with a shrug. "I thought you were supposed to be the charmer," she teased as they started off down the road. "You almost scared that poor man half to death."

"He wasn't human." Lucifer's crimson wings lifted to keep Alex from looking back . "I think he was a kolabos." Alex's eyes narrowed, and Lucifer let out a dry chuckle. "There's still a lot for you to learn, little angel." Before Alex could respond, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her into a sandy alleyway. The world spun as his wings carried them up and over the city, and Alex's feet touched bare earth mere moments later. "I got us a close as I dared. We'll have to walk the rest of the way."

"What are you so worried about?" Alex hurried after him into the street, her wings immediately drawing in close; she had thought the last street had been crowded, but now she could barely see to the other side of the cobblestone road. More importantly, she couldn't see Lucifer.

Momentary panic coursed through her, thick and hot, and she opened her mouth to call out for him, but then the archangel was back at her side, his icy grace washing away her anxiety. "Don't get left behind," he warned, and Alex dug her nails into the back of his hand as she let him lead her through the throng. His movements were swift and sure as he moved among the carts, and Alex pressed herself into his shoulder as a horse tossed its head back with an angered snort, its heavy hooves stomping against the stones right next to her feet.

The further they moved, the more the shock of her surroundings wore away, and Alex expanded her senses to take in the people around her. Merchants lined the street, shouting their wares to the civilians who walked shoulder-to-shoulder on the road. Her eyes turned to a nearby stall where an older woman stood in front of several bolts of colorful fabric. "I didn't think women were allowed to sell things back then — back now," she corrected, glancing up to see if Lucifer noticed her mistake.

"It's not common," he agreed, barely sparing her a look. "Most rarely leave the home, and socializing with non-relative men is strongly discouraged. But some women were able to get professional jobs like this." He paused in his lecture as they came to a fork in the road, and his face darkened as he thought. "This way," he finally decided.

He pulled Alex after him, and the angel frowned, but her momentary displeasure was swept away by a wave of awe. A massive stone building stood in front of them, its doric pillar stretching into the cloudless sky. A marble statue of woman, nude from the waist up, stood between the columns. "This must be Athena's temple."

She turned her eyes across the street in search of the synagogue the merchant had mentioned. "There." Lucifer flickered a wing off towards the far end. "That's it."

The interior was darker than Alex had anticipated, and she blinked twice as her grace rushed to adjust. "Hello?" Lucifer dropped her hand as he moved inwards, and Alex felt his grace prickle impatiently. "Anyone home?"

"Hello?" A voice came from beyond an arched doorway, and Alex's grace snuck out towards the source. A middle-aged man stepped into view, his dark eyes stretched wide to make out their faces in the dim light. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah. I think you might be able to." Lucifer sauntered forward, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. "I'm looking for something pretty specific, but I think you may be able to point us in the right direction." He stopped in front of the dark-haired rabbi. "We're looking for something that's been touched by the big man himself."

"God," Alex explained when the man's face went blank. "We need something that's been touched by God."

"By God?" The rabbi let out a nervous laugh, one that died under Lucifer's stare. "I don't think I know what you mean."

"It could be anything," Alex said. "A chunk of the, uh, the ark of the covenant. Or — what was it that Crowley had?"

"Aaron's rod." Lucifer folded his arms across his chest, and the rabbi let out a choked breath. The archangel flicked a wing, motioning her near, and Alex moved forward to stand at his side. "Really, anything that you have is worth a shot."

"I'm afraid I'm not sure what you're asking, sir. I —" The rabbi cut off with a shout as Lucifer grabbed him by the hem of his robe and swung him into the wall.

"Luce!" Alex jumped forward to intervened, but the archangel kept her back with his wings. "Let him go!"

"Not until he tells us what he knows." Lucifer's grace rose up, and his eyes burned red. "He's lying to us. Aren't you?" He loosened his grip, and the man's feet hit the stone floor. "Lying's a sin, you know."

He shifted backwards to make room for the rabbi to collapse to the ground, and Alex took the opportunity to slip in between the two of them, her hands planted on Lucifer's chest to keep him back. "How about trying a little more tact next time, huh?"

"Sometimes being direct is more productive." Lucifer shook out his crimson wings, and the sound of rustling feathers filled the air. "You know," he began, addressing the rabbi on the floor, "maybe I was a little harsh." He squatted down in front of the man, who scrambled backwards until his back hit the wall. "I'm usually a nice guy. Isn't that right, Alex?" Alex kept her mouth clamped shut, and Lucifer chuckled before reaching out to straighten the rabbi's robes. "It's just, when a professional holy man lies to my face … let's just say I can see why Dad always got a little wrathful." The light in his eyes hardened, and he gripped the man's shirt. "So let's try the truth this time, hmm?"

"I swear I don't know. I —" The rabbi squawked as Lucifer hauled him to his feet. "All I know is that a few years ago, some soldiers came through, and they — they raided our temples. They took whatever they wanted and brought it to Hephaestus' temple. They … some people are saying that one of the items they took was a fragment of the original stone tables from Mount Sinai."

"That could work." Lucifer loosened his grip, and the rabbi landed on his feet with a muted cry. "Hephaestus. Huh." He turned with a small click of his tongue. "Now that I can work with." He lifted his hand, fingers poised to snap and vaporize the rabbi, but he paused. Cerulean eyes turned onto Alex, and his grace rose against hers, pressing softly in a silent question. Alex gave a small shake of her head, and his hand fell back to his side. "Alright. Come on." He reached out to grab her wrist, and then his wings carried her off into the sky.

...

 **H** ephaestus' temple was a massive stone building on the north side of the city. Despite the intensity of the sun, the air around Alex was cold, chilled by the looming shadows of the white marble pillars. People moved around her, garbed in black robes, and the angel shifted closer to Lucifer as one brushed past. "Hephaestus' worshippers." Lucifer answered her unspoken question, a crimson wing curling around her, and Alex let him lead her further into the shadows. "They shouldn't cause us any trouble."

They passed beneath the pillars and entered the temple, lit by a line of candles along the far wall. An alter sat just beyond it, a slick, black stone. "How do we know it's here?"

"Hephaestus is a collector. It will be here." Lucifer's hand came up to rub thoughtfully at his chin as his eyes turned across the room. "And there should be a way down."

"Down to where?" Alex hesitantly let her grace out, but something blocked her path, like a wall that prevented her from reaching below the floor. "Oh. There's something down there."

Her words fell on deaf ears, and she turned to watch Lucifer examine the marble walls, his fingers dragging across the smooth stone as he walked the perimeter. "Ah." His grace rose up through the air, and the wall in front of him shimmered. "This way." He stepped forward through the stone and disappeared; Alex hesitated only a second before following.

The brightly-lit altar room vanished, replaced with darkness, and Alex blinked rapidly to adjust. The marble was replaced with cobblestone, cold beneath her feet, and the angel shifted closer to Lucifer as the archangel's wings snapped out. "No." Lucifer pushed back past her to pound on the wall they had entered through, but it was as solid as the floor beneath their feet. "Dammit!"

"Luce? What's going on?" Alex tried to stretch her grace outwards, but a pressure pushed against her skin, locking her grace deep within her body. "What did we do?"

"There's warding that's powering us down." Lucifer thudded his fist against the wall. "Clearly, Hephaestus doesn't want visitors." His wings rustled as he shook them out, and Alex watched as he started down the dark stairs. He paused when she didn't follow, and he extended a wing up towards her. "Well? If you want to get out, we need to go down."

"Down the stairs, huh?"

Her words hung in the still air, and Lucifer's head cocked to the side, his eyes squinted in amusement. "What were you expecting to be here?"

He turned his attention to the wall behind them, and Alex peered down the darkened stairs. "Dunno. A train station, probably." The poor attempt at humor did little for the grim atmosphere, and Alex glanced back at the wall before she reluctantly trailed after Lucifer. The stairs were sharp and narrow, descending deep into the earth around them. Alex pressed close to Lucifer, one hand tightly gripping his in hope of gaining some of the confidence with which the archangel moved. Her grace was locked away within her body, twisting in confusion and turmoil; she knew Lucifer could feel it, even if his grace within her was immobile. It sat silently, wrapped around the small ball that was Castiel's grace.

"Hey." Lucifer broke the growing silence, and Alex's grace immediately stilled. She glanced up into his face, surprised by the casual tone of the new conversation. "So, what does Asahiel like to do?"

"It's _Ash_ iel, and he likes to play. He's a four year old — it's not like he has hobbies." Alex kicked at a pebble, watching how it skittered down the steps and disappeared into the darkness. "Why do you ask?" She looked up into his eyes with a sudden, hesitant grin. "You _like_ him, don't you? I thought — I thought you hated fledglings."

"I never said that," Lucifer retorted with a flick of his wing. "I got to say, I can see why Pops wanted to be a dad. There's something about that innocence … that trust in a child."

The stairs curved, and Alex's wings flittered as her feathers brushed against the stone. "You never struck me as the kind of guy who'd be into fatherhood," she joked. "Definitely seemed more of a … lone wolf type." The staircase opened up to a stone floor, and Alex adjusted the baseball cap on her head as she looked around. The air had lost its damp coolness, replaced with a thick, viscous heat that seeped into her sweatshirt and weighed it down. "Where are we?"

"Far below the surface." Lucifer sauntered forward, and Alex hurried after him, her wings drawn in tight despite the warmth that clung to her feathers. "We should find the stone before anyone shows up."

"How … how are we going to get out?" Alex peered down a tunnel that branched off from the path they were on, and her head tipped at the sight of an orangish glow at the end. "And why's it so hot down here? Is it … are we near a volcano?"

She was met with a scoff. "We're not that deep," Lucifer promised. "But he is the god of metalworking, so I imagine that heat's coming from a forge somewhere. And we'll find a way out. There's always a way out."

The path ahead of them split, but the archangel didn't hesitate, turning to the left without a second thought; unsure what else to do, Alex followed. The tunnel wound downwards, smaller hallways darting off here and there, but Lucifer didn't waver from his set path until they reached a small iron door set into the side of the rough stone walls. "This is it?" Alex glanced up and down the hall, her face darkening in confusion. "How did you know where to go?"

"I've been here before. Sure, two thousand years from now, but the layout hasn't changed." He must have sensed Alex's confusion, as he glanced down at her with a small grin. "I was busy when I was first topside." The door creaked open beneath Lucifer's touch, revealing a bright, polished room lined with stone shelves. The shelves themselves were packed tightly with items, some a gleaming metal, others covered in a dull, rusted grime. The door swung closed behind Alex, and the angel trailed after Lucifer, her eyes turning across the array of trinkets and artifacts. Lucifer stopped at the end of the room, his teeth teasing at his bottom lip as he thought. "That's it."

He pointed towards a small chunk of stone, no larger than Alex's fist, and the angel tipped her head. "Great. Let's take it and go." She reached out grab it, but Lucifer caught her wrist just as her fingers closed around the stone.

It felt hot in her hand, and the angel hesitated to release her grip. "Careful," Lucifer warned, and his cold fingers pried the Hand of God away from her. "This could hurt someone in the wrong hands."

Alex relinquished her grasp, and Lucifer tucked the stone into his pocket with a satisfied hum. "Okay, so now we just need to find a way out." She flicked a wing, shifting uncomfortably at how her grace was pinned tight within her. "It's definitely time to leave."

"I don't think it's going to be that easy." Lucifer's words were lost beneath the sound of the door creaking open, and Alex spun around.

"Well, well." A dark-skinned man sauntered inwards, and the candles flickered as the door slammed shut behind him. "What have we got here?"

Alex felt Lucifer's shoulders roll back, and he lifted his chin. "So, you're Hephaestus, huh?"

"And you're a couple of angels." The god's eyes flashed displeasingly, and his golden robes shimmered in the candlelight. "I thought you were all called back to the Higher Spheres."

"We're just out to get a little air." Lucifer's wings rose in the slightest hint of a threat, but his voice remained light and airy. "So if you'd like to just point us towards the exit …"

He stepped forward, motioning towards the closed door, but Hephaestus was faster. He grabbed Lucifer by the throat and flung him backwards. Alex jumped out of the way as Lucifer crashed into the stone shelves behind her — they cracked under his weight and sent the archangel to the ground. "Hey!" Alex leapt forward, her angel blade in her hands as she placed herself between the two. "Careful, alright? We don't want to hurt you — we just want out."

"Then give it back." Hephaestus' cold eyes stared through Alex, and the angel lifted her broken wings. "Do you really think you can just walk in here and take what's mine?"

"Yours?" Lucifer pushed himself to his feet, scowling as he rubbed at his sore head. "Yeah, I don't think I'm following. You _stole_ this." He shook the rock to emphasize his point before he shoved it back into his pocket. "We're just taking it back."

He pushed Alex aside to stand in front of her, and Castiel's angel blade dropped down into his hands. Hephaestus scoffed at the sight. "You're not the first angels to come here. I learned from my mistakes. _Batiltu!_ "

The air grew heavy, pushing down sharply on Alex's grace, and the angel's legs buckled under the pressure. She hit the ground with a muffled grunt of surprise, her palms slapping against the hot stone as her angel blade clattered across the floor. She saw Lucifer stumble beside her, but he managed to remain upright. "It's going to take a lot more than that to stop me."

Alex pushed herself to her knees, hissing at the pain that pressed down upon her shoulders. She felt Lucifer's feathers brush against her back moments before he attacked, and she flinched as his angel blade swung through the air. His blow was weakened by the spell, and Hephaestus easily sidestepped. His fist caught Lucifer in the jaw, sending the archangel stumbling. The god pulled a broken rusted sword off of the shelf next to him, and metal clanged as the two weapons met mid-air. Alex pushed herself to her feet with a grunt, her eyes lifting just in time to see Lucifer hit the wall behind her. He shook his head, dazed by the impact, and Hephaestus kicked Alex's angel blade across the floor and out of reach as he stepped past her to approach the archangel.

Alex threw herself forward, using his momentary distraction to grapple at the sword from behind, stripping the god of his weapon and twisting to position herself in front of Lucifer.

Hephaestus jerked back, hissing in pain and surprise; with a snap of his fingers, the metal hilt of the sword began to burn, glowing a painful molten orange, and Alex dropped it with a shout. A fist came from her left, and Alex ducked, both hands lifted in front of her face. She retaliated with two quick jabs to the stomach before she straightened up, rocking onto the balls of her feet to dodge the next hit.

A second fist came from her right, following in quick succession by a hit from the left, and Alex grunted in pain. She ducked beneath his arm, jamming an elbow into his ribs as she darted past, and Hephaestus spun around with a snarl.

His eyes went wide, his mistake realized too late, and Alex stepped back as he collapsed to the ground, revealing Lucifer, his blood-stained blade in his hands. The air lightened as the spell was broken, and Alex let out a sharp breath of relief as her grace could rise up within her once again. "Are you okay?" She stepped over the body to stand in front of Lucifer, reaching up to run her fingers along his forehead where blood trickled out of a small cut. The archangel nodded, and her eyes dropped down onto the body. "Shit. I — what if we changed the future by killing him?"

"It'll be okay. He'll be back before long." Lucifer pulled her hand away, holding it by the wrist a moment longer before he let go. Alex's eyes narrowed, confused by his confidence, and his teeth flashed in a grin. "Don't tell me you don't know. These pagan deities live off of their worshipper's belief. As long as enough people still worship them, they'll keep popping back up. He'll be up and about in time for me to kill him all over again in a couple of centuries."

Alex let him lead her past the body, her face darkened as she thought. "I didn't know that," she finally admitted. "So, they're kind of like tulpas?"

She turned her eyes up onto Lucifer when he chuckled. "Barely, but it that helps you." He paused, and Alex felt his cold hand come up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I have to say, you've grown a lot since I first saw you." The hand shifted to gingerly touch the small laceration on his temple. "Good work."

Alex's wings flittered at his praise. "I told you I can take care of myself," she retorted. "I don't see why everyone thinks that I can't."

She stepped aside to let Lucifer past, frowning at how the archangel chuckled. "All I meant was that you can fight better than you could five years ago. I think your track records still shows you need someone watching your back." Crimson wings ushered her closer, and Alex held back her scowl as she was pulled up against his side. "That's why we're such a great team, you know? I'm the Reese to your tiny little Finch." Alex frowned, and he squeezed her around the waist before he let her go. "Alright. Let's head home."


	40. Hell's Angel

**March 11th, 2015**

 **A** lex sat in the corner of the white room, her broken wings curled around her as she studied the small stone in her hands. The jagged edges were worn smooth, evidence of many years of handling, and she tossed it back and forth between her hands with a frown. Some much work for such a small prize. She dropped it into her lap as she looked around, her eyes drifting towards the hallway that lay off to her left. She could feel the movement of angels even though they were out of sight; the air thrummed with their presence.

The rustling of feathers was all the warning she had before Lucifer was standing in the room, his blue eyes locked upon her. "There you are." He crossed over to her side and crouched down, pulling the Hand of God out of Alex's hands before the angel could hide it. "You shouldn't be playing with this," he chided, and Alex's fingers reluctantly relinquished their hold. "How did you even get a hold of this?"

"I took it from your pocket." Alex adjusted her position so she was sitting up straighter under the devil's stare. "It wasn't hard."

Lucifer's teeth flashed in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and he tucked the stone back deep into his pocket as the grin faded. "I'll have to keep an eye on you more than I thought." One of his wings curled forward, brushing against her side, and Alex reached out to straighten his striped tie with a half-hearted huff. "I'll just hold onto this until we find Amara."

"Speaking of. Any news of her yet?"

"Nothing." Lucifer shook his head, his voice resting on the edge of frustration. "I have the angels looking for her from up here, and I still have the demons scouring the earth. If someone does see her, I'll be the first to know." He settled down on the stone next to her, his legs crossed. "Ashiel is doing better, by the way. Oriel says he's pretty much stopped worrying about the black smoke."

Alex screwed her face up in concern. "Great. Thanks for checking up on him, Luce."

"Of course." Fingers brushed across her cheek, slipping under her chin to lift up her face. "I'll keep him safe. You can visit him anytime you want, you know."

"Maybe I shouldn't." Alex turned her head to escape his hold, and she withdrew her grace from his. "I just feel like I ... I barely get to see him — is it confusing for him that I just disappear for so long? Maybe it's better if I just stay away."

"Or you can stay here with him." Lucifer's grace shifted to press against hers, cold and calm. "You shouldn't be walking around earth with Amara loose, anyways. She's not your problem."

"She became my problem when she decided she wanted to destroy the earth — where I live, by the way." Alex pushed herself to her feet, and Lucifer followed, smooth as a snake. "How can Amara just drop off the grid like that? She's gotta have someone helping her if heaven and hell can't find her."

"It's possible," Lucifer agreed. "It's also possible that she's curled up somewhere wounded. The angels hit her with all their combined strength," he reminded when Alex frowned. "I doubt even Dad in all his glory could walk away from that unharmed." Lucifer's hand snuck into his pocket, and although Alex couldn't see it, she knew he held the stone in hands. " If we can find her before she's recovered, we can do a lot more damage."

"Okay, great. Even more of a reason for me to go back to earth." Alex tried to step past Lucifer, but the archangel caught her by the waist and pulled her close, scoffing as his wings curled around her so she couldn't see the outside world.

"There's no point in you going down. If heaven can't find her, you can't on your own." His lips brushed against her ear, and Alex stifled a shiver at his cold touch. "Come on. I have a surprise for you."

His wings carried her away before she could protest, and in the next second, Alex found herself standing in the kitchen of her old home. She felt her grace tremble as her surroundings came into sight, and Lucifer's grace rose up to steady her.

"Well?" The archangel stepped away to lean up against the kitchen island, his head tipped as he watched her. "Is it just like you remembered?"

"How …" Alex drew her wings in tight to hide her surprise as she turned to face Lucifer. "How did you find this place?" She stepped into the living room, eyes flickering up the staircase as she ran her fingers along the back of the couch. "I didn't think I'd ever be back here." Her grey eyes turned onto Lucifer, and she added, "Not without Cas."

"I have my tricks." Lucifer smirked, and he sauntered over to her. "I had Oriel move Ashiel into this heaven. It's safer in here in case Amara decides to strike again." His wings flicked upwards towards the bedrooms, and when Alex stretched her grace out, he stepped closer. "I suggested that the two go out for a bit. Just to give us some privacy." His arms wrapped around her, his fingers splaying across her back, and Alex shivered as the coolness of his touch seeped in through her shirt. "This place brings back a lot of memories, am I right?"

"Yeah." Alex's back hit the couch, and she hesitated, pinned there by Lucifer's body, and she craned her head up to find his face. "It's just weird … with you … in Cas." She leaned into his touch as his hand came up to cup her cheek, and she felt the archangel's chest rumble in pleasure. "It's hard to see past it."

"Then just close your eyes." Lucifer's hands slipped lower as he kissed her, and Alex's wings draped over the back of the couch, her eyes drifting shut. Her hands found the back of his neck, holding him close, and she gasped in surprise as his fingers found the base of her wings. She felt him smirk against her lips, and Alex reluctantly pulled her head away. "Wait," she started, "we shouldn't …"

She trailed off, her insistence already losing steam, but Lucifer gave a curt not. "You're right." He shifted back, moving just enough so that his coat barely bushed up against her stomach. "We've got bigger things to worry about at the moment." He shook his wings out, and Alex slipped past him to stand in the kitchen.

"Hey." She reached into her pocket for her phone with a small frown. "Does heaven have reception? Because I haven't heard from either Winchester in a long time."

"Let me see." The archangel held out his hand, and Alex tossed the phone towards him, one eyebrow cocked in interest. She felt his grace twitch, and then Lucifer was holding it back out. "Here."

"Thanks, Nerd-Herd." Alex stepped forward to take it from his hands with a small laugh at her joke. "Here I was thinking you barely knew what a phone was." She tapped the screen as Lucifer scoffed, and she felt his crimson wings brush against his side. Her amusement immediately fell away at the notifications on her screen. Three missed calls from Dean. Four text messages.

 _Alex, pick up the damn phone. This is important_.

 _Please._

 _Sam's dead._

"What?" Alex scrolled through the messages, her wings snapping up against her back in tentative fear. "Luce …"

Pick up dammit! I'm in Grangeville, Idaho, at the hospital. We need to talk.

Her phone buzzed again, and Dean's fifth message appeared. _I'm going to talk to a reaper. If I don't make it back, you know what to do._

"Fuck." Alex pressed her phone up against her ear, eyes squeezed shut in a prayer that the Winchester would answer, but all she got was his voicemail.

"Something wrong?" Lucifer moved closer, his wings curling forward to brush against hers at her curse.

"Dean …" Tears stung her eyes, but disbelief kept them from spilling over. "Something's wrong with — with Sam." She tore her gaze away from her phone and forced it up to find Lucifer's face. "Dean said that Sam is dead." Her pronouncement was met with silence, and Alex's wings drew back from his. "N-Nothing? You've got nothing to say."

"Trust me, _le mohaoth_." Lucifer held back a chuckle behind a toothy smile. "If a Winchester were to die, I would be the first to know." His grace pressed up against hers, chasing away Alex's fear, and she let her eyes momentarily fall shut before they snapped back open.

"I need to get down to Grangeville right now. Dean's about to do something really, really stupid." Alex shoved her phone into her pocket as she spoke, tripping over her words in her haste. "Please, Luce, can you take me there?"

The archangel paused, and Alex stepped up to him, toe-to-toe as she looked up into his eyes. "Alright, princess. I'll take you down, but I can't promise I can pick up up whenever you want — I have heaven and hell to run." He dipped his head to kiss her as Alex mumbled out her gratitude, and his arms pulled her close as his wings carried them away.

...

 **Grangeville, Idaho**

 **A** lex stepped through the Urgent Care Center's back doors, her grace stretching out worriedly through the empty halls. "Dean?" Her voice echoed off the white walls, and Alex's feathers ruffled warily. "Dean? Where are you?" She turned a corner, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flicker in the shadows.

It disappeared almost instantly, but Alex hurried after it. She ducked past a nurse and rounded the corner to find Dean standing in the middle of a room at the end of the hall. He flickered once, then twice, and Alex's eyes fell onto the body that lay at his feet. _His_ body. Doctors knelt around him, the air thick with panic, but the air stilled as she rushed across the threshold.

 _Everything_ stilled; Alex felt the change immediately, and her eyes turned across the frozen nurses to rest on Dean. The Winchester's attention snapped onto her as she stepped into the room. "Alex?" His mouth hung open, eyes wide as they locked on her wings, and Alex's wings twitched uncomfortably at his stare.

"Great. The angel is here." Billie's voice had Alex turning, a scowl darkening her face at the sight of the reaper. "You're too late. Dean's dead." She turned back to Dean with a shake of her head. "It's cute, though. You pretending you're trying to save Sam for the greater good, when we both know you're doing it for you. You can't lose him."

"Dean, we need to get out of here." Alex flicked a wing, and Dean's gaze snapped over to her. "This isn't going to work out like you're thinking it might."

"Thank you." Billie strolled forward, her dark eyes glinting. "You see, Dean? Even if Sammy could win the title bout against Amara … the answer would still be no. The answer will always be no." She chuckled as Dean's jaw tightened. "Game's over, Dean. No more second chances, no more extra lives."

"Please." Dean's voice trembled, his eyes shining with desperation. "I'm asking you … I'm _begging_ you, please. Bring him back. Bring him back and take me instead."

Alex's eyes dropped down onto Dean's body; foam frothed his lips, and his eyes were rolled back into his skull. She shifted closer to it, grace rising and ready to snap the Winchester back into life, but Billie stopped her with a click of her tongue. "Don't bother, sweetheart. I'm taking him to the Empty one way or another." Dean and Alex exchanged looks, and the reaper smirked. "That's right, Dean-o. I'm taking you someplace you're never going to get back out of."

"You touch him, and you die." Alex's broken wings lifted in warning, and she squared up against the reaper. "And you're sure as hell not coming back, either."

"I don't doubt it." Billie planted her hands on her hips, her eyes growing cold as she regarded the angel. "Look at you. You've always been a bit unstable, but there's a whole new type of evil in you now, isn't there? I can see it in your eyes."

Lucifer's grace rose up within her, and Alex's eyes glowed as her grace snapped out, weaving alongside his as she channeled it down and into Dean. The hunter's body convulsed, and then the Dean beside her disappeared, yanked back down into its physical form. Billie's demeanor darkened, and the nurses around her leapt to life as the reaper snarled. "This isn't over," she warned. "The natural order has to be followed, and I'm going to make sure that's the case."

Billie vanished in a flash of white light, and Alex finally let her wings lower with a throaty growl. She heard Dean wretch, and she stepped back to avoid getting caught in the crossfire of Dean's spluttered vomit. "You idiot."

"Where — who are you?" A young woman was curled up in the corner, her eyes wide as watched Dean convulse. "Where did you come from?"

"Not important." Alex dismissed the question with a flick of her wing, and she circled around to crouch down at Dean's side. "How is he, doc? Is he going to be okay?"

"He — he's alive." Dean gasped out the words, and the woman in the corner perked up, her eyes going wide.

"He?" she repeated, shifting forward so she could be in the Winchester's line of sight. "Sam? Oh — thank God." She smiled in relief, but the grin faded away at the sight of Alex's dark face.

Dean struggled to push himself up, but Alex pushed him back down against the tile with one hand on his shoulder. "Stop." Dean batted away her hand with a pained grimace. "I — I need to get back to Sam. I need — I need a car."

"No." Alex and a man spoke together, and the angel looked over at him for the first time. His brown uniform and holstered gun made his occupation clear, and Alex scowled; great, a cop. "No," the sheriff repeated. "Not a chance."

Dean let out a half-hearted scoff, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Look, pal, I'm not asking." He grunted as he rose to his feet, using Alex's shoulder to balance, and the angel rose up alongside him with a tight-lipped frown.

The moment he was up, however, the sheriff stepped forward, twisting the Winchester's hands behind his back and handcuffing them in place. "Hey, look, psycho," he warned, "I got you for stealing and consuming a felony's worth of Schedule IV drugs, plus assaulting a police officer. You ain't going anywhere. Sedate him," he ordered the doctor.

"No."

"No?" The sheriff's jaw ticked, and Alex caught Dean's gaze as the Winchester's chest convulsed in a cough. "Can we have a word outside, please?"

The two left, and the moment the door closed behind them, Dean turned around. "Come on, get these off," he hissed, and Alex crossed her arms.

"What the hell happened here, Dean?" she snapped, keeping her voice equally low as not to be overheard. "You were supposed to be in Michigan working a kid coma case. What the fuck are you doing here?"

"That was four days ago." Dean jingled the handcuffs impatiently, and his eyes turned onto the other woman in the room, and she gave a single nod before she began digging through the cabinets. "I'll explain more once I'm out," he added over to Alex. "We need to get to Sam!"

"Who's she?"

"Oh!" The woman immediately froze and turned around. "I'm Melissa." She hurried across the room to hurriedly shake Alex's hand, and the angel grunted in acknowledgement. "My — my husband Corbin — we were hiking, and these werewolves —"

"Can this wait?" Dean spun so his cuffed hands were facing Alex, and with a roll of her eyes, Alex reached out to undo the metal lock. They sprung open with a click, and Dean immediately pocketed them before pointing to the far window. "That way."

Alex followed him out the window, her wings drawing in tight as she slipped to the ground. "Dean, what the hell is going on?" A glance behind her showed that Melissa wasn't following, and the angel paused with a thin frown.

"Werewolves up in Wallowa-Whitman National Forest. They caught us off guard, Sam got shot. I tried — we tried to get away, but he …" Dean let out a low growl, a mixture of pain and confusion. "I _left_ him there. His heart — I thought he was dead. So we need —" His phone rang, and the Winchester jumped to answer it, his face lighting up at the name on the screen. "Sammy?"

A shout came from the open window, and Alex tugged Dean around the corner before they could be spotted. "Sam?" she repeated. "Is he okay?"

"I — what happened?" Dean listened for a second with a frown, and he answered, "I'm, uh, at the Urgent Care on 54. Alex is here, too. Sam? Sam?" He pulled his phone away from his ear and scowled down at the screen. "Dammit. Lost him. He's at the ranger station in the park. I can …"

He cut off with a low groan of pain, and Alex reached out to steady him. "Sorry, I didn't know how hard to shock you. Might have overdone it a bit." Her head lifted as a scream echoed through the hospital. "That didn't sound good."

"I didn't hear anything." Dean's eyes turned out across the parking lot. "We're gonna have to jack a ride. Baby's still back at the park entrance." He straightened up and stepped forward, but Alex held him back.

"Hold up. First off, you ain't driving, champ. Secondly, are we sure this isn't a trap? Where exactly did you find that girl?"

"She and her husband were hogtied in an old cabin — not exactly trap material, you know? Besides, we tested both of them, they're clean." The scream came again, and the Winchester paused.

"I'm going to check that out. Just in case." Alex stepped away from Dean with a shake of her head. "Come with, stay here — I don't care. I'll be right back." She didn't wait for an answer before she hurried back to the open window and pulled herself back inside.

 _Everything okay?_ Lucifer's voice echoed through her head, and the angel paused in surprise.

 _Yeah, everything's fine. Both Winchesters are alive, so I'm counting that as a win_. The smell of fresh blood permeated the air, and Alex's wings twitched uneasily. A sound from the window behind her had her turning in time to see Dean struggling to pull himself through the window, and she grabbed him by the jacket to help him through and onto the counter. "Good choice. Something's wrong."

"C-Corbin?" A trembling voice came from the hall, and Alex glanced out the door to see Michelle standing in front of a man. Blood matted his hair, but he stood on steady, confident feet. "Hey, baby." Even his voice was strong, and Alex curiously reached out with her grace. "Please don't be scared of me …"

"Werewolf." Alex pulled Dean back as she spoke, and Dean's face darkened.

"Son of a bitch. He wasn't when we found him. Fuckers must've bit him." He felt his jeans in search of his gun, muttering out another curse when he came up empty. "Cop must have taken my gun when he tased me."

"Tased?" Alex pushed away her surprise with a quick flick of her wing. "That's fine. You're not in any shape to take on a werewolf …" Dean rushed past her, his boots thudding on the tile as he charged Corbin, and Alex's wings drooped. "Or you could just do that."

"Run!" Dean shouted out the word as he tackled the werewolf, but he was no match for Corbin's strength; the creature tossed him to the ground and leapt onto him, his fingers wrapped around Dean's throat.

"Hey!" Alex's grace pulled her weapon down into her hand as she threw herself after the two, but a gunshot had her pulling up short. Michelle screamed, and the werewolf collapsed on top of Dean, his eyes rolling up into the back of his skull.

Sam stood at the end of the hallway, the muzzle of his pistol shaking. The hand not holding the gun was pressed tightly against his side, which was slick with blood. "Sam?" Alex broke into a run down the hall, her eyes stretched wide at the sight of the hunter. His dull eyes lit up faintly at the sight of her, and he stepped forward, but his legs gave out; he stumbled, reaching out for the wall to steady himself. Alex grabbed onto his shoulder to keep him upright, a silent offer of support. "Sam? Are you okay? You look awful!"

"I — I'm fine." Sam's gasp of pain contradicted his lie, and Alex reached down to put a hand on his side, internally wincing at the hot blood that seeped past her fingers. "Dean? Dean, you okay —"

"Dean's fine. Just sit down for a moment —" Alex cut off with a grunt as Sam sagged, slumping against the hospital wall until he was seated on the tile floor. "Let me help, Sam. I can fix this."

"No, d-don't." Sam's large hand moved to cover hers, and hazel eyes stretched wide. "You don't have enough strength, not — not with Crowley's deal a-and your grace —"

"I'm strong enough." Alex let her grace sneak inwards, seeking out the extent of the injury. After a moment, she drew Lucifer's alongside hers, and the flesh began to knit itself back together. "You'll be a little weak," she warned as she reached in further, "at least until you get some of your blood back." She felt the last of the damage disappear, and she momentarily rested her forehead against Sam's shoulder before she pulled back with a low breath. "Try that out for size."

"Thanks." Sam pushed himself to his feet, using Alex's shoulder to balance as he wobbled. "Dizzy," he muttered. "Dean, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Dean had gotten to his feet, and Alex stepped aside so he could pull his brother into a hug. "What the hell happened, man? I thought — I thought you were dead."

"I don't know. I just woke up in that station, and you were gone. The, uh, the car's out front. I drove it in." Sam patted his brother on the back before he stepped away to lean against the wall with an exhausted huff. "Michelle?"

Dean glanced back at the woman, who was on the ground beside Corbin's body. "I'll talk to her," he said. "Go sit down, okay? Get some rest." He glanced over at Alex, and the angel nodded before she nudged Sam off down the hall.

Sam's hand came to rest on her shoulder as he walked at her side. "So, what'd I miss?" he asked, and Alex's wings twitched sharply as his hand shifted, his fingers sliding downwards and resting against the base of her wing. "When did Dean call you?"

"After you died. I got up here as soon as I could." Alex glanced over her shoulder towards Dean, hesitating to reveal the nature of his overdose. "I only got here maybe ten minutes ago. You should ask him what else happened." She motioned for Sam to sit down on the bench, and the Winchester obliged, sinking down with a grunt. "How are you feeling? Still dizzy?"

"I just … I just need to sit for a while."

"You're still hypovolemic." Alex pressed her hand against Sam's forehead with a frown. "I can't just make blood appear out of nowhere, Sam." She looked around, and her wings flicked as her gaze came to rest on the doctor who had treated Dean; she was crouched down beside Corbin's body, her face deathly pale. "Well, this is a hospital. Let's see if I can find you some blood. Hey, doc." She stepped away from Sam towards the doctor, and the woman's hands trembled as she looked up. "I need help. This guy —"

"He attacked me." The doctor's voice shook unsteadily as she looked down at Corbin's body. "His eyes … what was he?"

"I, uh, I don't know." Alex placed a hand on her shoulder to focus her, and the woman's eyes turned up onto Alex's face. "Listen, this guy over here, he's lost a lot of blood and he needs your help." She pointed back towards Sam, who was still slumped over on the bench; his head was tilted back, his eyes closed, and the doctor slowly rose to her feet.

"Right, right. Where is he?" She followed Alex's gaze over to Sam, and she nodded. "Okay. I'll go take a look at him." She hurried away, and Alex turned in search of Dean. The Winchester was deep in conversation with Michelle, and Alex hung back until the widow walked away. "How is she?"

"She's strong. She'll be alright." Dean's eyes flickered over to Sam with a tight-lipped frown. "He's gonna be okay, right?"

"Yeah. Doc's taking a look at him now. He'll be fine." Alex shoved her hands into her pocket with a shake of her head, and after a moment, she added, "Listen, I think you and Sam should head back to the bunker. He's going to need his rest. I can stay here and see if there's any werewolves that you guys missed."

Dean hesitated, then he shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Even if there's any left, they'll have gone deep into hiding. You could search that forest for a year and still not find anything."

Alex tugged on Lucifer's grace, but the archangel remained still. _Busy_ , his voice reminded before quickly disappearing, and Alex flicked her wing as she stifled a frown. "Okay," she reluctantly agreed. "Once Sam is given the all-clear, we'll head out." She watched Dean nod before he headed off in search of Sam and, unsure of what else to do, she wandered off down the hall.

...

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **T** he lights flickered above her head, and Alex paused, glancing up from her show with a curious frown. Her grace snuck out in search of the source, twisting through the ceiling, but she found nothing. She could feel Sam and Dean in the library, still and silent, and the angel closed her laptop with a sigh. "Luce?" She plucked on the archangel's grace, and she felt it tug back; the tug was sharp, the line between them thick, and Alex yanked her earbuds out of her ears. "I know you're here. I can feel you."

"I'm impressed." Lucifer's voice came from the corner of the room, and Alex's head whipped around in time to see him step out from the open closet, a toothy grin lighting up his face. "Is it just me, or is this getting stronger?"

His grace twisted playfully within her, and Alex shifted sideways on the bed as the archangel dropped down next to her. "I don't know," she lied. "I haven't really noticed." She slipped her laptop onto the floor so it wouldn't get jostled as Lucifer's wings folded against her stomach, and she reached up to stroke at the crimson feathers. "What have you been up to? Any sign of Amara?"

"Nothing yet, but she'll have to show herself eventually. I've been keeping an eye on heaven. I never thought I'd say it, but maybe Michael was good at something after all." Lucifer's hand slipped under her head, nudging her closer, and Alex rolled onto her side to watch him stare up at the ceiling. "Don't tell them I said this, but they have no idea how to run anything bigger than a pig farm. Do you know how many of them are left?"

He rolled onto his side, his head propped up as he stared at her, and Alex pressed her lips together in a small frown. "Not a lot," she admitted. "Not after …"

"Not after … what? After Cas slaughtered half of them all hyped up on soul juice? Or after Cas worked with Metatron and kicked everyone downstairs?" Lucifer snorted, and his eyes momentarily narrowed. "And they called me dangerous."

"I know what you're trying to do —"

"Do?" Lucifer cut her off with a twitch of his wings, and Alex felt his grace thrum displeasingly. "Hey, don't forget, they were my family, too. Even if they did kick me to the street. And even if they still don't want to see my face," he added sourly. Alex reached out to run light fingers through his hair, and he caught her hand in his. "At least I have you. Right?"

"Right." Alex's eyes dropped down onto the sheets between them, tugging her hand back as his grip grew too tight. "How's Ash doing?"

"Good, as always. He asked me to give you this." Lucifer sat up, leaning back against the headboard as he reached into his coat pocket for a small, folded sheet of paper. "Kid's taken up crayons." With a smile, Alex unfolded the paper. Two stick figures were drawn in the center; the taller one had black sticks coming out of its back. "I think that's supposed to be you. Maybe realism isn't his calling."

"He's only four." Alex playfully smacked his shoulder, and she turned her attention onto the smaller stick figure with grey wings, his stick hand tightly gripping hers. "I think it's cute." She tucked the picture onto her nightstand with a smile.

"He gave me one, too." Lucifer pulled out a second sheet paper, unable to hide his grin as he unfolded it and dropped it in her lap. "Look at that." He pointed at the black stick figure with large, red wings that extended from its back, the crooked red feathers tipped with sharp black lines. He scooped the drawing back up and folded it into quarters before he tucked it back into the inside pocket of his coat.

"It sounds like you and Ash are really getting along." Alex drew her legs up, twisting slightly so she could face the archangel beside her. "I'm glad he likes you. Sorry that the rest of the angels are still giving you trouble."

"Don't worry about it. I told Duma to see if Heaven had enough power to create more _Enaiish_. They're going to kill themselves off if they don't do something." Lucifer tucked his hands behind his head as he lounged back on the bed. "I don't know what their standard procedure is with that sort of thing … but I think I got my point across."

"Ominous." Alex slid off of the bed, and she felt Lucifer's eyes follow her across the room as she locked the door. "And here I remember you calling my kind an abomination."

She listened as the archangel snorted. "Did I? That was a long time ago." The bed creaked as he readjusted his weight, and his grace reached out to beckon her back. "I remember you not being too hot about the idea of me, either, but here we are." His eyes burned into her back, a cold, piercing fire, and after a moment, he heaved a sigh. "Come on, Alex. You said you'd give me a chance."

"That doesn't mean I'd be your mate." Alex joined him back on the bed, perched on the corner as the archangel twisted so he was sitting crosslegged beside her. "You know that can't happen, right? The Winchesters know you're out and they're set on getting you out of Cas, Crowley's in the wind — best case scenario, they put you back in the Cage forever. Worst case, they kill you. And where does that put me?"

"Nowhere good," Lucifer murmured, and Alex turned her head, surprised at the honest concession. His grace stilled only for a moment, and then his quiet demeanor vanished. "Don't worry about that." His wings pushed him forward, and Alex's shoulders hit the backboard as he loomed in front of her, his hands planted on either side of her hips. "The Winchesters got lucky once. It won't happen again." His lips brushed across hers, and Alex's eyes flickered closed. "Crowley … he might be more of a challenge, but he's still just a demon. And next time I see him, he won't be walking away." He paused, his head lifting as he listened, and his eyes flickered orange in displeasure. "I'll be back soon. See if you can get away for awhile again, huh?"

His lips collided with hers, a quick, sharp kiss, and then he was gone, vanished into thin air mere seconds before a fist pounded on her door. "H-Hello?" Alex stammered out the word, scrambling to pull her laptop back up onto her lap as her grace snapped out to unlock the door. "Come on in."

The door swung open to reveal Dean Winchester, and Alex made a show of closing her computer and setting it aside. "Hey." The Winchester flicked his head up in a nod. "Whatcha doing?"

"Uh, not much." Alex cleared her throat, her feathers rustling as she sought to calm her nerves. "I'm just killing time for a bit, I guess. Why? What's up?"

"Sam and I found a case." Dean opened the door further so he could lean up against the wooden frame. "We were thinking maybe you'd like to come with."

"A case?" The shadows shifted in the corner of her eye, and Alex's grace snapped out towards the closet in fear that the archangel was lingering, but she found nothing; Lucifer was long gone. "Um, I don't know. Could be interesting, but maybe I should hold down the fort here and keep an eye on anything related to Amara."

Something dartes through Dean's eyes, and he took the time to cross his arms before he spoke again. "We, uh, we're actually thinking it might be Amara," he finally said. "Could be our first real lead since Massachusetts." His eyebrow cocked, waiting for Alex's response, and when she hesitated once again, his lips pursed. "Okay, honestly, look. I don't want to pull this card, but you've been locked up in your room pretty much since the minute we got back. You need to get up off your ass, and this is the best way to do it."

"Fine." Alex slipped out of the bed with a roll of her eyes. "You had me at Amara, Winchester." Her grace flicked out in search of Sam, surprised to find him already in his room. "Give me a few minutes to get ready, and then we can head out."

...

 **St. Louis, Missouri**

 **T** he Impala rolled to a stop in front of an old, dark church, and Alex leaned out the window to study it through the darkness. " _This_ is where we're stopping?" Her wings flicked disdainfully as the engine died, and she turned her eyes up onto the moonless sky. "This is miles from the nearest town, guys." Neither Winchester answered her, and Alex frowned as she followed them out of the car. "Dean? Sam?" The ground beneath her feet was mud, and Alex scowled as she hurried to stand on the dirt path.

"I told you this is a bad idea, Dean," Sam murmured, too quiet for Alex to hear without her grace. "We should just ask her."

"You and I both know we're past asking." Dean pushed open the church door, and it squealed in protest.

Sam's shoulders fell, and he hesitated in the doorway. Alex did the same, her grace flicking warily through the building, but wardings blocks her path. "Hey." Sam's hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Alex shoved down her fear as she looked up into his eyes. "Look, no one's going to hurt you, okay?"

"What do you mean?" Sam didn't answer as he stepped inside, and Alex's wings drew in tight as she reluctantly followed, his promise a sour taste in her mouth. The church inside was dark, and her grace rose up to combat it, but before it could, a sharp shove to her back had her stumbling forward. "Hey!" A guttural shout erupted from her throat, but it was lost beneath the _whoosh_ of flames. The fire rushed around her in a tight circle, and Alex's grace twisted wildly as she jumped back. "W-What?" The angel spun around in search of who had shoved her, and her eyes came to rest on Dean Winchester. The firelight reflected in his eyes, flickering with fury, and Alex couldn't help but step away.

"Hey!" Sam jumped in front of Dean, his hazel eyes flashing as he cast a worried look in Alex's direction. "I told you we didn't need the fire, okay?"

"Oh, trust me, we needed it." A dark, familiar voice had Alex's eyes flashing, and she turned to find Crowley, her jaw squaring at the smug look upon the demon's face. "Oh, don't worry, kitten. I told them _everything_." He sauntered forward, and Alex's jaw trembled, eyes narrowed as she watched him approach. "Maybe you couldn't tell, but they're not particularly pleased that you've been lying to them about Lucifer. You really thought you could get away with it?"

"I wasn't trying to get away with anything." Alex sought on Sam's gaze, but the hunter's eyes were darkened with disappointment, so much so that Alex had to turn away. "What is this about?"

"About?" Dean's voice rose in a shout. "How about the fact that you knew Lucifer was out from day one and you — you —" His anger grew too great for words, and Sam put a hand on his brother's shoulder to calm him down.

Alex clenched her jaw to keep from shying away. "Okay, look, I knew … Lucifer is the only one who can stop Amara. None of us stand a chance without him. He's not the bad guy here. He healed my eye — he broke my _deal,_ Sam!" she pleaded, and Sam's jaw trembled as he looked away. Alex shifted forward, but her grace pulled her back as her toes brushed against the circle of fire. "And _this_ — this wasn't necessary." She turned her eyes back onto Sam. "You know me. I'm on your side …"

She trailed off as a fourth figure stepped into view, her red hair catching in the flickering firelight. "The wardings are ready to go." Rowena stopped in front of Sam, her eyes passing cooly over Crowley before coming to rest upon Alex. "They'll hold Lucifer, no doubt."

"You're alive?" Alex ground out the question to hide the surprise that replaced her fear. "Lucifer said he killed you."

"Aye, he did," the witch agreed. "But a hard life has taught me to be prepared. I, long ago, secreted within my person a wee casket of powerful magic." Smug satisfaction flickered across Rowena's face, quickly quelled. "When the spell inside me sensed my life-force ebbing … it went to work. And I was revived."

"Great. I'll keep that in mind for next time we kill you." Alex flicked a wing in anger as she looked around. "Okay, so what's the plan here? I plan on fully cooperating, by the way, so feel free to _let me out of here_."

"Crowley has a Hand of God." Dean suddenly spoke, his voice venomous, and Alex frowned; there was no doubt in her mind that his anger was directed at her, not at Crowley.

She turned her gaze away from Dean's seething face and onto the demon, head tipped in wordless curiosity. "The Horn of Joshua." Crowley nodded. "And I'll give you the Horn if you help me exorcise Lucifer from Castiel's vessel and then immediately return him to the Cage."

Alex met his level stare, and she flicked her wings dismissively. "Pass. We don't need your Horn, Crowley. We have our own weapon."

Satisfaction bubbled up within her as Crowley's confidence faltered, and she turned back to Sam and Dean as she pointed to the fire. "Put this out before Lucifer shows up and gets the wrong idea, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Sam moved forward to stamp out the flames, but Dean remained where he was, his arms folded across his broad chest. "Where'd you guys find one?" he demanded. "I thought they were supposed to be rare."

"Today they are, yeah. But it's a different story two thousand years ago." Alex shoved her hands into the pocket of her sweatshirt as the fire died around her. "Thanks, Sam," she added before turning back to Dean. "Lucifer and I went back to Greece to find a fragment of the original ten commandments in Hephaestus' temple."

"You went back in time?" Dean's eyes flashed, and Alex mimicked him by crossing her arms. "What the hell? Did you even think that you could change the future?"

"Well, everything seems pretty normal to me, so I'm guessing we didn't affect things that much." Alex stepped away from the ring of holy fire, not bothering to hide the frown as Sam began relaying the oil. "It was something we had to do, okay? It's our one shot against Amara."

"Our _best_ shot," Crowley corrected. "We don't need Lucifer to use it — let's kill Amara without him."

"What?" Alex's wings rose defensively. "He's arguably the strongest thing on this planet apart from Amara. You can't put him back! If we want to hit her, we need to move fast." Her eyes turned back onto Sam. "Listen. Lucifer thinks she's damaged from heaven's attack, so we need to find her before she recovers."

"Why do you want to bring Lucifer?" Crowley hissed. "He's spent years marinating in hate against us! He has to go."

Alex rolled her eyes, and to her surprise, even Dean scoffed. "He's been down this road with Amara before," he reminded; his thin frown conveyed his reluctance to side with Alex. "He might be the only one powerful enough to use the Horn against her."

"He made me clean the floors with my tongue!" Crowley's eyes flashed indignantly, and he drew himself up higher. "He called me 'puppy'! He made me _beg_." Alex snorted, and the demon's wide eyes turned onto her. "Worst of all, I had to listen to the two of you snogging —"

He cut off when Alex's grace snapped angrily against him, but his scowl didn't die. Rowena sniffed in disdain, and Dean threw his hands up in exasperation. "Great! Of course you're fucking him, too. I _told_ you, Sam. I —"

"It's not like that!" The electric lantern that provided the light flickered as Alex's grace snapped — her voice cracked in desperation to be heard. "And that's not the point! Lucifer is the only one who's done this before We should be _working_ with him, not trying to put him back."

"Alex is right." Sam's words had Alex's head recoiling in surprise, and she looked up at Sam, unable to keep her jaw from falling open. "The priority should be to put a Hand of God into Lucifer's hands and set him loose on Amara."

"After we exorcise him out of Cas and put him in a new vessel," Dean added, and Sam blinked. "We're not gonna send Lucifer into battle inside Cas." Dean's face darkened as he spoke, and Alex tightened her jaw as his eyes dropped onto her. "What if he doesn't make it? He's your fucking mate."

"Yeah, he was. And then he chose to let Lucifer in _knowing_ our history, and now all he's doing is hiding. He won't even let me talk to him." Alex's teeth ground as she paused, her wings snapping up in a brief show of her anger. "I don't know if I'd even _want_ to go back to him anymore!"

"You're mad." Sam put a hand on her shoulder, warm and comforting, and Alex's wings dropped. "I get that, okay? And Dean, look — Cas' vessel is strong. It's held Cas for years, and we know what he's been through. I'm guessing it can hold Lucifer."

" 'It'?" Dean's eyes stretched wide. "It's not an 'it,' guys. It's Cas!"

"And he's the one who chose this," Alex countered. "He knew that Lucifer would face Amara, and he still said yes. He wanted to do this."

"Yeah, well, there's times I want to get slapped during sex by a girl wearing a Zorro mask. That doesn't make it a good idea."

"What the fuck?" Alex hissed out the curse, her wings flicking in surprise, but she was saved from further responding by an ear-splitting howl. She whipped around, wings flaring out as she searched for the source. "Did — did you hear that?"

"Hellhound." Crowley's face visibly paled, and he took a step backwards as his eyes swept across the building. "Lucifer must have sent it. We need to get out of here."

"Oh no." Alex's wings trembled, and she felt four sets of eyes turn onto her. "It's Ramsey." She glanced back at Crowley, her face darkening at the fear that flashed through his eyes. "Stay — stay here. I'll go calm her down."

She stepped towards the church door, but the door exploded inwards under the weight of a beastly black figure, its eyes glowing red with hellfire.

The beast's jaws gaped in a bloodthirsty snarl, and Alex leapt back. "Whoa, whoa." She threw out a hand to keep the hellhound back. "Ramsey, c-calm down. Look at me, look at me!" She stretched out her grace towards Ramsey, and the creature's head tipped. The snarl died as ears pricked forward, and Alex let out a shaky breath as the monster's hackles lowered at the sound of its name. "Calm down," she repeated. "Good girl. I know you're after Crowley, right?" The hellhound's eyes drifted past her onto the demon, a growl rumbling through its chest, and Alex jumped to put herself back in its line of sight. "Cause Lucifer sent you. Lucifer," she repeated when Ramsey's gaze flickered back onto her. "Yeah, I-I know him. See?" She lifted Lucifer's grace to her eyes, letting them glow orange, and she felt Lucifer's grace twist.

"Ramsey." His voice sounded behind her, a low, warning rumble, and the hellhound's ears pricked up at his presence. "What's my good girl found for me?" Ramsey chuffed, and Lucifer waved his hand dismissively. "I'll see you back in Hell, sweetheart." With one last glare at Crowley, the hellhound loped away, and Lucifer finally turned his attention onto the demon behind him. "Crowley, Crowley, Crowley. Imagine my surprise."

Flames leapt upwards with a hiss, and Alex yelped as Lucifer pulled her away from the fire and into his chest. "I'm okay," she promised, but the archangel didn't relinquish his grasp, holding her tight around the waist.

"Sam. Dean." Lucifer greeted each brother, and despite the casual, playful tone, Alex could feel the frustration boiling beneath his skin. "I'm sorry. I thought we were on the same team, but … I'm just not feeling the warm and fuzzy here."

"What is he doing here?" Dean's head whipped around to find Rowena. "You said he shouldn't be able to find us until we summoned him!"

Rowena didn't immediately respond, fear flickering in her eyes. "Aye, he shouldn't have," she agreed. "I don't know where the wardings failed."

"Oh, no, they didn't fail, per say." Lucifer's grace sparked, surprised and curious at Rowena's presence. "But when part of me is already within their boundaries …" His fingers dragged up Alex's arm as he paused, and Alex felt his grace rise within her, forcing her eyes to glow orange. "It isn't hard for the rest of me to follow." The fingers tucked her hair behind her ear, lingering only a moment longer before they fell away, and Alex shivered as his grace finally subsided, sinking back down to rest within her gut. "Rowena. You're looking … alive."

"They have another Hand of God," Alex blurted out, and she flicked her wing off towards Crowley. "It's Joshua's horn."

"Mm." Lucifer reluctantly turned his eyes away from Rowena and onto the ram's horn that sat propped against the wall behind the demon. "Well, look at that. Powered up by Dad himself. Let me guess. You want to put our differences aside and have me use it to take on Amara, hmm? Way ahead of you." From his pocket, he produced the stone fragment from Hephaestus' temple, holding it up so it caught in the flickering light. "Already got one of those bad boys for myself." He tucked it away before he clapped his hands together. "Well? What are you waiting for? Douse the flames and let's get this party started."

The Winchesters exchanged looks, and Alex's wings flicked impatiently. "Let us out," she snapped. "He's no good in here."

"Since when are you on his side?" Dean's green eyes flashed, and Alex squared her jaw. "He's the fucking _devil_."

"You still don't get it, do you? I'm not on 'your' side or 'his' side. We're all on the same team here, Dean!" Alex's chin lifted in defiance to Dean's anger. "It's us versus Amara. _That's_ my side!"

"Well said." Lucifer's cold breath stirred her hair, and his wings curled around her, feathers brushing against her side. "Come on, guys. I just want to be a team player." Crowley scoffed, and the archangel rolled his eyes as he flicked a wing towards the demon. "Alright, I'll come clean — I'm still going to end you. And maybe you," he added to Rowena, "but Sam, Dean — you're free to walk away at the end of it."

Dean stepped back, and Alex tipped her head as the Winchester suddenly slammed his palm into the wall; the wood panels began to glow with an orange light, illuminating the circular spellwork around his hand. The wooden floor beneath their feet began to glow, and Alex jumped in surprise at the heat that washed over her. Lucifer's wings shuddered beside her, the tremors running up to wrack his whole body, and Alex leapt back as his arms fell away from her waist. "Cas?" Dean stepped away, his face darkened in concentration. "Castiel, show yourself!"

"Dean, what are you doing —" Alex cut off with a yelp of surprise and pain as Lucifer's grace snapped within hers, the tight net woven around Castiel's grace shattering. She could feel the seraph's grace reluctantly stir, the connection between them rising up as the seraph was pulled to the surface.

Crimson wings flickered and disappeared, fading into broken, burned feathers. "Dean?" Castiel stumbled slightly, his breathing heavy as he fought to keep Lucifer at bay; Alex could feel his grace churning angrily beneath his skin, fighting against Dean's spell. "What are you doing? What … what's going on?"

"Cas, listen to me." Dean stepped forward, his toes against the flames. "We don't have a whole lot of time, okay? You have got to —" Lucifer's grace rose up, and Castiel shuddered, gasping in pain as their graces collided. Alex shivered, their fight extending into her own body. Lucifer wrapped around Castiel, dragging him back below the surface, and Alex clenched her teeth at the discomfort as Dean repeated the command. "C-Castiel, show yourself!"

The spell binding Lucifer shattered, and his cold grace swept through Alex; she stiffened as it washed over her, her eyes glowing until it subsided. Lucifer's wings were back, reaching towards the ceiling as he stretched them high above his head. "Whoo!" He shook out his wings with a laugh. "Uh, he's got to what?" He grinned as both Sam and Dean stepped back, and Alex cupped her temple with a low, pained groan. Crowley was in the corner, Rowena nowhere in sight; hiding, no doubt. "You boys … ooh, you almost had me there for a minute, but these mail-order spells …" Lucifer clicked his tongue, "they're not what they're cracked up to be, are they?"

"Cas, expel him!" Dean shouted out his plea. "You got to kick Lucifer out! Do you hear me?"

Alex curiously probed at Castiel's grace, but it had drawn back into its corner. It took Lucifer a moment, but his own grace returned to wrap around it, hiding it from her touch. "Honestly, I think he's happy with the arrangement," he admitted, ushering Alex close with his wings. "I mean, he did invite me in and all, Dean."

"Cas!"

"Cas!" Lucifer mocked Dean's call, and Alex smacked him in the stomach with her wing. "He's not coming out, Dean. So how about you just hand over the weapon. Or, we can just wait for this warding to fail and I'll just take it." His grace rose within him, and the glowing sigils on the wall began to flicker.

"Bloody hell." Crowley's curse was all the warning that Alex had before red smoke poured out of his mouth and billowed through the air, flying past the flames and into Lucifer's mouth. The force of it knocked Alex off balance, and she hit the ground with a thud. Lucifer's grace pulled away from hers, drawing back and falling uncharacteristically still, and Alex rubbed at her temple as she looked up at the archangel through squinted eyes.

He was still on his feet, but his head was hung, eyes closed. "What did you do?" Alex scrambled to her feet, eyes wide as she looked between Sam and Dean. "What did he do?"

She pressed her hand into Lucifer's chest, feeling inwards, but the turmoil inside had her pulling back. "Guys, I don't know how long this vessel's going to be able to hold all three of them."

She met Sam's gaze, and the Winchester's eyes darkened sympathetically. "What … what do you think is going on?" he asked.

"I think Lucifer's kicking Crowley's ass." Alex pulled away with a disgusted shake of her head, her anger sharpening her tongue. "I already told guys. Cas doesn't want to come out and play. He doesn't want to talk with you, and he definitely doesn't want to talk to me. All you're doing is pissing off our one weapon against Amara!"

"Can't you people do anything right?" Rowena's voice came from the corner of the room, and Alex's lip curled at the witch's reappearance. "Whilst all this dithering goes on, we're losing time! Look … the warding is beginning to fail." She pointed at Alex's feet, and the angel shifted back to see the spellwork flicker.

"Shit." Dean's curse had her eyes lifting back onto the brothers. Dean was pointing towards Crowley's body, where the words _Help Me_ was burned into the vessel's forehead.

"Shit," Alex echoed, and she pressed her hand back into Lucifer's chest. "Luce, stop it!" She closed her eyes and drew herself in along his grace. The further she pressed, the more it pulled her inwards, and Alex shivered as she felt Lucifer, Castiel, and Crowley all in one. The darkness that surrounded her eyes gave way to light, and Alex hesitantly let them flicker open.

She was standing in the bunker's kitchen. The ground didn't feel completely solid beneath her feet, and she could still feel her body — her real body — outside in the church, but somehow, her surroundings almost felt real. "You wanted my throne. You plotted to replace me!" Lucifer's growl had her spinning around. The archangel had Crowley by the jacket, and Alex barely ducked in time as he threw the demon across the room, soaring over her head to tumble across the kitchen table.

Castiel sat there, his eyes on a small box tv. "Guys, you're gonna break something," he warned, moving the tv out of the way of Crowley's feet.

"Cas?" Alex cast Lucifer a quick look before she hurried to her mate's side; the archangel had paused, confusion darkening his face at the sight of her. "What's going on in here?"

"They're fighting."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I'm here." Castiel's eyes didn't leave the flickering tv and, with a frown, Alex shoved it aside. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," she snapped. "What the hell happened to you? We're supposed to be _mates._ "

"I think Lucifer has made it … exceptionally clear that that's not the case." Castiel shifted uncomfortably, his eyes seeking out his television. He must have sensed Alex's scowl, because he gave pause. "Other than that, he mostly just leaves me alone," he promised. "He really only comes by to ask questions about you."

"You shouldn't be here, man." Alex drew her wings in as Lucifer hauled Crowley back to his feet. "Why — why the hell did you let Lucifer in?"

"Because he told me he could stop the Darkness. And he promised me he could break your deal." Castiel reached back for his tv, and Alex reluctantly let him have it, her wings drooping at his disinterest in their conversation. "Lucifer's right. You and I would have never worked. I was just too blind to see it."

"Cas —" The words died in Alex's closed throat, and her feet carried her a step back at the confession. Her grace went slack in surprise, and the ground beneath her pitched as Alex suddenly found herself back on the church floor. Her palms slapped against the rotting wood, and a gasp left her lips as her grace coiled back up within her body. She could hear Sam shouting — even in her daze, she recognized the exorcism — and red smoke poured out above her head as Crowley finally fled.

"Alex?" Sam dropped down onto his knees on the other side of the flames, his voice sharp with worry. "What happened in there?"

"It's useless," she heard Crowley hiss. "Lucifer's hold on him is too strong."

His mutter was overshadowed by Rowena's shriek, and the fire around Alex softened to glowing ashes. Hands hauled her to her feet, pulling her into a cold chest, and Alex shivered as Lucifer's grace rose within her, prodding for the source of pain that quivered against her grace. "What did they do to you?" The words were growled out, loud enough for all to hear, and Alex felt Crowley vanish as he fled.

Alex shook her head, and she planted her hands against Lucifer's chest as she pushed herself away. "I'm okay," she promised, adding, _I'll tell you later_ as a prayer. She could feel the archangel's anger; it burned at his grace, and she reached out to try and soothe his rage. "They didn't do anything."

Lucifer's grace snapped out, and Sam and Dean gasped as the air was crushed from their lungs. They dropped to the ground, writhing in pain, and Alex jumped forward to put herself in front of Lucifer, her own grace stretching out to fend his off. "What are you doing?" Lucifer pulled back, his words spoken with a scowl, and Alex heard the Winchester draw in deep, ragged breaths. "They lied to us, and they just tried to kick me back into the Cage. I'm not going to let these … _imbeciles_ get between me and Amara —"

The far wall of the church erupted, and Alex hit the ground, her hands covering her head as rubble flew through the air. Only Lucifer remained unaffected by the explosion, his crimson wings lifted threateningly as a figure appeared through the settling dust. "Lucifer." Amara's voice rang through the still air, and Alex scrambled to her feet. "Dear nephew, my, how you've changed." The Darkness stepped into the church, weaving her way through the fallen beams as her eyes turned across the darkened room. "I was tracking her," she began, one pale hand waving dismissively off towards where Rowena remained hidden, "when she left my side."

Lucifer followed the gesture, and his teeth dug into his bottom lip in a cold smirk, but Alex could feel the surprise and frustration that lined his grace, buried beneath a cool blanket of confidence. "You were safely sealed away." His hand dipped into his pocket, and the air around him began to hum as his fingers closed around the Hand of God. "You're gonna wish you'd stayed there."

The weapon's power flowed through his grace, burning colder than ever before, and Alex felt her legs shake under its force. Lucifer's wings glowed, a blinding white light that spread upwards into his eyes, and Alex had to shy away as it grew too much for even her to handle. She could feel it growing and growing, molded by Lucifer's grace until it released with a blinding _snap_ and a whoosh of flames. It faded away, leaving only Lucifer's grace behind, and Alex's hands went out on their own accord to find the archangel as she cracked open her eyes.

She wasn't sure what she expected to see — maybe nothing, or just a pile of ash — but Amara hadn't appeared to even flinch at Lucifer's attack. She beckoned the archangel closer with two fingers, and the Hand of God fell from Lucifer's fingers as he was pulled across the floor. He stopped in front of Amara, and Alex could feel the heat radiating from her skin through Lucifer's grace as she cupped his face in her hands. "I think you and I need to have a nice, long chat," she murmured.

Dean shouted out Castiel's name, but it was lost beneath Alex's shriek. "Wait! Luce!" She threw herself forward, her grace rising up in panic, but Amara and Lucifer vanished in a flash of light.

Her foot caught on a fallen beam and Alex tripped, her palms slapping against the floor as she caught herself on her hands and knees. Hurried footsteps sounded behind her, a single pair, and Alex turned her head to watch Rowena bolt, her dress hiked up above her ankles as she hurried through the door. Alex pushed herself to her feet, her broken wings beating angrily as she charged after her, but Sam blocked her path. "Let her go." His voice was devoid of emotion, his eyes still locked on where Amara and Lucifer had disappeared, and Alex's wings trembled as she watched Rowena vanish into the night.

The church fell silent, the quiet only broken by Dean. "We should go. _Now_ ," he added when his brother hesitated, and Sam reluctantly stepped away from Alex. The angel shifted forward, reaching out along her grace towards Lucifer, but the archangel was far, far away; the link between them was pulled thin.

Her foot caught against something hard, and she looked down to see the discarded Hand of God, dull and powerless. She reached down to pick it up, brushing off the dust as she looked around. The Horn of Joshua was gone; Crowley must have taken it with him when he fled. "Alex." Sam's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and Alex reluctantly turned her eyes onto him. "It's time to go."

 _Lucifer?_ Alex sent up the prayer as she followed Sam out of the church, tucking the stone into pocket. _Where are you? We'll be there_ — Pain shot along her grace, thick and hot, and Alex screeched, her legs giving out as she collapsed into the dirt. The feeling lasted for only a split-second before Lucifer's grace twisted, pulling back into a deep, sharp knot that separated him from her. The icy coldness of his grace retreated, and Alex writhed in shock at the sudden heat that boiled through her skin.

She didn't notice she was in Sam's arms until large hands pressed against her, holding her head against his neck. "It's okay, it's okay." His soothing words fell on deaf ears, and a tremor passed through Alex as she desperately sought out Lucifer. "You're going to be okay."

Some of his grace still remained; relief rushed through the angel, deep down into her bones. He was alive, and so was Castiel, whose grace still sat tucked away in the pocket of Lucifer's cocoon. They were alive, but that pain she had felt — that had only been through a fraction of the archangel's grace. How much agony must he be feeling right now?

...

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **"S** o, what exactly happened in there?" Dean's words broke through the quiet bunker, and Alex lifted her head at the sound of his voice. His eyes were locked on her, dark and narrowed, and the angel shifted uncomfortable under his stare. "Back when you went inside Cas — er, Lucifer." His voice was calm, but Alex could spot his frustration in how he leaned forward in his seat, how his fingers gripped his bottle a little too tightly.

Her eyes darted over to Sam to see that the Winchester had also lifted his head, his interest piqued, and Alex dropped her gaze to the table. "Uh, well, I saw Lucifer, who was kicking Crowley's ass," she began. "And I saw … I saw Cas. We talked, and … I think he broke things off with me." She let her eyes shift upwards to watch the surprise that flashed across the brothers' faces before she dropped her head to the table, her forehead colliding on the wood with a crack. "I can't believe he's gone."

"Cas or Lucifer?" Dean's question was pointed, and Alex heard him grunt in pain as Sam kicked him under the table.

"Both." Alex reluctantly lifted her head, and her eyes fluttered closed as her shoulders slumped. "Amara's going to kill them. I —" She pushed herself to her feet with a shaky breath. "I need to find them."

"We're going to find them." Somehow, Sam was already on his feet and at her side, and Alex let herself sag into his chest as he pulled her into his arms. "You're not alone, Pip. We're going to get them back."

"We're going to get _Cas_ back," Dean corrected sourly. "Come on, Sam, we both know Lucifer can fucking rot for all we care. Hell, I wouldn't even think twice about leaving him there if he wasn't wearing Cas." He slammed down the last of his beer with a muttered curse.

Alex could feel Sam's frustration building up within his chest but somehow, he managed to push it down. "We'll found both of them," he promised, and his chin rested against Alex's head. Dean scoffed, and Sam's arms fell away. "Hey, uh, why don't you go get another drink? It might help you calm down."

"I'd be surprised if it did anything," Alex muttered, but she stepped away from Sam all the same and made her way out of the library. She plucked fruitlessly at Lucifer's grace, but it remained as still and as hard as a ball of ice within her gut.

With a sigh, she let it go, and she lifted her grace to her ears to listen in on the Winchester's conversation. "You're seriously on board with _rescuing_ Lucifer?" she heard Dean hiss. "What the hell, Sam? Am I the only one who remembers everything he did to you? He tortured you until you broke your fucking gourd!"

"I remember." Sam's voice was tight and quiet, and Alex hesitated in the doorway of the kitchen. "But obviously Cas trusts him enough to let him jump his bones, and if Alex says —"

Dean cut him off with a snort. " _Alex_ is making a huge mistake. Just admit it, man. The Alex we knew — she's gone. Okay? She's gone to the dark side, and you know what that means."

"No, Dean, I don't think I do!" Sam's voice rose, only quieting at Dean's hissed shush. "Because usually when you say that about someone, you want to put a bullet in their head!"

"I don't —" Dean's voice lowered into a growl. "I don't want to _kill_ her, okay? All I'm saying is that we can't trust her." Sam must have done something, because Dean scoffed. "She's working with the _devil_ , Sammy. If she were anyone else, we'd have put her down months ago. We can't keep playing favorites like this! Because every time we do, it turns around and bites us in the ass."

"So you want to, what? Kill her? Lock her up and throw away the key? Come on, Dean. Imagine if this was Cas —"

"Imagine? I don't have to imagine, because we've been down this path with him before. He broke open your head, and then he went off with Crowley and opened Purgatory. And what did we do? We hunted that son of a bitch down." Alex heard Sam huff, and there was a thud as Dean slammed his hand down upon the table. "Think with your head for once about her, Sam!"

Sam started to protest, but Alex drew her grace away with a wince. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat on the kitchen counter, and Alex paused, her fingers tapping on the steel countertop as she contemplated her choices. There was beer in the fridge, but one beer couldn't fight back against her grace; judging by Dean's anger, she would definitely need something stronger. Without a half-hearted shrug, Alex tipped the whiskey bottle back and started to drink. The liquor burned at the back of her throat, but the heat was welcomed as it settled in her stomach.

The warmth ceased as the liquor stopped coming, and Alex frowned to find the bottle already empty after only a few large gulps; that clearly wouldn't do. She dug around in the cabinet for an unopened bottle of vodka, and her grace flicked off the cap as she took a sip of the pungent liquor. Gross, but it would suffice.

The Winchester's argument had ceased by the time she returned to the library; Sam had retired to his chair, and Dean had cracked open his third beer. "— like mother like son, huh?" Sam was saying; he paused at Alex's reappearance before he explained, "Rowena and Crowley. They both took exactly one split second to take off when things started to go south." Dean grunted, and Sam heaved a sigh. "Question is, what's Rowena doing with Amara?"

"My guess … she's playing the odds. When sucking up to Lucifer didn't work out, maybe she thought Amara was the best bet." Dean shrugged, stopping only long enough to take a long drink before finishing, "Then she heard Lucifer had a shot, so she switched horses again."

"I thought Lucifer had a shot," Sam admitted after a moment. "Apparently, uh, archangel plus God power doesn't trump God's sister." The words came hesitantly, and Alex felt his eyes upon her as he spoke. She dropped down into her seat, taking a sip from the bottle before setting it down upon the table. "Are you planning on drinking that whole thing?"

Alex snorted. "Hell yeah. And, uh, yeah, that didn't go as planned." She traced the clear label on her bottle. "Lucifer knew he couldn't beat Amara on his own, but he — he was convinced that he could do it with a Hand of God. He was!" she insisted when Dean rolled his eyes. "He wouldn't lie to me, Dean. Especially not about something like that."

"Well," Dean muttered, "then since this thing needs to be wielded by one of God's chosen, apparently being an archangel who got the boot doesn't qualify. At least Crowley still has the Horn … if he ever speaks to us again."

"One of God's chosen." Alex narrowed her eyes as she thought, and she took a moment to take a long drink from her bottle. "Well, if God's chosen is what we're looking for, maybe we should go grab ourselves a prophet. Hell," she added after a second, "maybe a prophet can _be_ a Hand of God. You don't get more 'touched by God' than that, you know? Too bad we can't go back in time and grab Chuck." Neither brother responded, and Alex let the silence hang in the air before she pushed herself to her feet. "Fine. I'm going downstairs to start reading. The sooner we find Amara, the sooner we find Cas." _And the sooner we find Lucifer._


	41. Don't Call Me Shurley

**March 27th, 2015**  
 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** lex kicked a stack of books off of the chair, her head lolled back as they clattered to the floor. The single lamp that illuminated the small room flickered twice, seemingly sharing in her frustration, and the angel reached up to rub at her aching head. How long had she been locked away in the bottom level of the bunker? She could see a blinking blue light on her phone, which lay charging across the room; that light had been flashing for hours, begging her to read the text, but if no one had called her about it, it couldn't be that important. Lucifer's grace remained within her, an ever-constant reminder of what she was looking for, and Alex reached for the nearest book with a heavy sigh. The faster she read, the sooner she would find a way to beat Amara and save him.

The door swung open, and Alex jumped with a stuttered curse; she had been so lost in her own thoughts, she hadn't heard anyone approach. Sam stood in the doorway, the bright light from the hall casting a dark shadow across his face. "There you are." He flicked on the overhead lights, and Alex screwed up her eyes. "We've been looking for you."

"Well, I'm right here. Same place as last time we talked." Alex flipped open the heavy leather-bound book with a shake of her head. "I haven't found anything yet."

"You left the room between now and then, right?" Alex shrugged, and Sam's face darkened. "Alex, Dean and I left five days ago. Please tell me you've at least stood up."

"If it'll make you feel better, sure." Alex leaned back in her chair to meet the Winchester's gaze. "Has it really been five days?" When Sam nodded, she pushed herself to her feet with a shake of her head. "Great. Well, how was the job out in, uh …"

"In Colorado." Sam stepped back out into the hallway, and Alex reluctantly followed, grabbing her phone on the way out the door. "It was interesting. We definitely could have used you," he added. "Turns out it wasn't demons. They were bisaan."

"Bison?" Alex moved past Sam to take the lead up the stairs, and her grace flicked out in search of Dean. There. Alex felt his soul in the kitchen, and she turned her course towards him. "Sounds exciting."

"Bisaan," Sam corrected sourly, and Alex paused, confused at his tone. "Also called a cicada spirit." When Alex shrugged, he explained, "They live underground for twenty seven years before they emerge during the spring equinox to possess humans and breed. Apparently a couple of them had migrated up from Mexico a century ago or so, locals were calling them 'the chitters.' "

"Exciting," Alex repeated as she stepped into the kitchen. "Wish I could have been there."

"You could've." Dean cracked open a beer as he spoke, and Alex rolled her eyes at how he grit his teeth around the words. "Find anything to track down Cas?"

"Nothing. No items, no spells, no lore." Alex sullenly nudged at the leg of a nearby stool with a shake of her head. "I've poured almost every book that even mentions tracking, but there's nothing. Normally I'd just be able to follow their grace, but Luce — Lucifer tied such a tight knot that I can't feel _anything_. Not from either of them."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, but when neither of them spoke, Alex turned to go. She had taken one step over the threshold into the hall before Dean spoke. "Are we going to talk about Lucifer or not?"

"I dunno, Dean. Do you want to?" With a soft sigh to steel herself, Alex turned back around, leaning up against the doorframe as she crossed her arms. "Because I'm not sure what's left to talk about."

"How about how you're shacking up with the devil?" Dean snapped, and he mimicked her by leaning up against the counter with his arms folded across his chest. "I think that's a pretty great place to start."

"Okay, well, first off I actually _haven't_ slept with him, and secondly …" Alex faltered, struggling to find the right words, "secondly, it's none of your business who I sleep with, anyways. You don't _know_ him, Dean."

She stepped aside as Sam slipped past, mumbling out a hurried apology as he scurried away, but Dean stood firm. "Know him?" he repeated with a loud scoff. "He's a psychopath that wants nothing more than to kill me, Sam, and everyone else on this damn planet. What more is there to know?"

"A lot more, apparently. He's just as complex as me and you." Her wings twitched angrily, the bare vanes rattling against one another. " Ashiel really likes him," she added after a moment as she forced her wings down. "And Luce likes him back. He treats him as good as anyone I've met." She watched as Dean shook his head, and she heaved a sigh as she stepped towards the door. "I'm not going to apologize for seeing the good in someone, Dean. So if you don't mind, I'm going to go back downstairs and try and save both him and Cas. I'll let you and Sam get unpacked."

...

 **F** ootsteps echoed through the hallway, quickly approaching the library, and Alex lifted her head out of the book she was reading. She blinked once, then twice, trying to get her tired eyes to focus on the bookshelf across the room as she let her grace stretch out towards the sound that had disturbed her concentration. Sam. Alex scrubbed at her forehead as she waited for the Winchester to draw closer, and she flapped her wings twice to stretch out the cramped muscles. "Hey," she greeted as Sam stepped into sight. "I thought you were going to try and get some sleep."

"Uh, I was." Sam joined her in the library, his brown plaid shirt unbuttoned to the point that Alex could see the black v-neck that lay below. "Finding anything?"

"Nope. Still nothing. I'm starting to think that there's nothing to be found." Alex shoved her book way with a terse shake of her head. "Besides, even if we did find something … who know what traps Amara's set up. If she's shielded herself again, then there's no promises that any kind of spell would work, anyways."

"Well, I might have found something." Sam reached up to touch the black tablet that was tucked beneath his arm to emphasize his words as his eyes swept the library. "Have you seen Dean?"

Sam looked around expectantly, and Alex let her grace twist out through the bunker to find the oldest Winchester. "Kitchen." She pushed herself to her feet as she drew her grace back in, her wings curling forward in curiosity. "Do you mean 'found something' like a case, or 'found something' like a lead on Amara?"

"Come on." Sam waved her after him, and Alex followed him down the hall with a small, unsure frown. She tugged at Lucifer's grace as she jumped down the library steps, willing it to move, but it resisted her touch. She could hear the hiss of an iron from the kitchen, and she moved past Sam to step through the doorway. The Winchester was cleaning a white oxford, a hot iron in one, a beer in another. "Oh, perfect," Sam began, and Dean looked up, surprised by their presence. "We're gonna need our suits."

Dean set the iron aside, and his eyes darted over to Alex as he took a drink. "Tell me you got something on Amara."

"Uh, it's a long shot, but the clock's ticking, right?" Sam pulled his tablet out from under his arm, and Alex circled around to lean against the stainless steel counter. "Uh, Hope Springs, Idaho." He held the tablet out to Dean, and Dean looked down at the article on the screen. "A guy named Wes Cooper killed himself after killing a co-worker. According to the reports, though, nobody knows why. Apparently he was perfectly happy guy, and then … snap."

"So, what?" Dean handed the tablet over to Alex, and the angel scanned through the report with a frown. "You thinking possession?"

"Or he was soulless." Sam and Alex spoke at the same time, and Alex dropped the tablet onto the counter behind her. "That's pretty thin as far as leads go," she added with a flick of her wing. "And even if it is Amara — what's the point in chasing her down? We should be looking for Lu — _Cas_ while she's distracted."

Sam held out his hand, and Alex handed back the tablet. "Look," he began, "if Amara is eating souls again, then she's not going to go too far from where she's holed up. Cas and Lucifer have to be close."

Alex saw Dean frown out of the corner of her eye, and he took a long drink from his beer. "It ain't much," he agreed, "but given what we got, I'll take it." He handed the white shirt over to Sam as he walked away. "There you go."

"Thanks —" Sam cut off as Dean disappeared from sight, and he lowered his nose to sniff at the shoulder of his shirt. "Dude, quit ironing my shirts with beer!" No answer came, and Sam tossed the shirt over his shoulder with a shake of his head. His eyes turned onto Alex, and his posture softened. "You should probably shower before we go. No offense but, uh …"

"I smell?" Alex guessed, and when Sam nodded, she sniffed at her shoulder. "Yeah, you're right. I'll go get cleaned up." She stepped out of the kitchen with a flick of her wings, leaving Sam standing alone. She took the long way around to the showers, but Dean was there waiting for her, leaning up against the shower door. "Hey, Dean. You getting ready to go?"

"Yeah, I'm all set." Dean didn't budge, and Alex glanced past him towards the showers. "I just need to make sure you're good to go." He cast a look over his shoulder as Alex frowned, and she crossed her arms, waiting for his explanation.

When it never came, she spoke. "What do you mean, Dean? Why would I _not_ be ready? It's been a week since Amara took Lucifer, and all I've done is look for them." Her wings arched as Dean's face darkened. "Oh. Of course. This isn't about Amara at all, is it?"

"Listen, I'm not pointing fingers here, but you've barely opened two books since we let Amara out, and now all of a sudden it's all you want to do? I'm just not sure if you have your priorities straight here."

"My _priority_ is to get Lucifer back. Get Cas back," she added when Dean's jaw ticked. "Call it what you want — at this point, they're sort of one and the same. I want them back before Amara hurts them even more. And I get who Amara is, but somehow … she hasn't exactly felt like my problem. I guess my attention's been elsewhere. Between Crowley —"

"And Lucifer." Dean's voice was flat, and Alex's wings twitched.

"And Lucifer," she agreed tersely. "Don't worry, Dean, I'm keeping my eye on him. I'm not calling him a saint, but if God trusted him enough to give him the key to Amara's prison, then maybe you should put a little more of your trust into him, too." She glanced once more towards the shower, and she ended with, "Look, I need to get cleaned up before we leave. I'll meet you and Sam out by the car." Dean hesitated before he stepped aside, and Alex slipped past him into the showers.

...

 **Hope Springs, Idaho**

 **A** lex adjusted the collar of her blouse as she stepped out of the Impala. The Hope Springs Police Station lay spread out across the corner of the intersection, the glass entrance gleaming in the late afternoon sun. The car locked with a click as Sam and Dean joined her out on the pavement, and the angel let the brothers take the lead across the parking lot and in through the doors. A man was there to greet them, his short hair greyed with age. "Agents." He greeted them with a nod and extended a hand towards Dean. "Glad you could make it. I'm Sheriff Benson, but you can just call me Mac."

Dean shook Mac's hand before he reached for his badge. "I'm Agent Ehart," he introduced. "These are my partners Agent Greer and Williams." He gestured to Sam and Alex respectively, and Alex briefly held up her own badge before she tucked it back into her jacket pocket.

"Well, I appreciate the FBI taking an interest in this case," Mac began. "We don't really see things like this around here."

"Hey, you mind if I knock off, Sheriff?" A young officer stepped out from the hall, her blonde hair swept back into a high ponytail. Her eyes darted across the three hunters as she fell quiet, and a faint hint of embarrassment flushed her cheeks.

"Let me guess." Mac cracked a smile as he turned to the woman. "Art's back?" His grin widened as he turned back to Sam and Dean to explain, "Newlyweds." Dean chuckled, and Mac nodded off towards the officer. "You can go home after you show Agent Greer the M.E. files."

"I'll go with, too," Alex volunteered, and she fell in step at Sam's side as the officer waved her and Sam down the hall.

"I'm Deputy Jan Harris," the officer introduced, and Alex echoed with her own alias. "Let me guess. You three are here about Wes Cooper, aren't you?" When Sam nodded, Jan heaved a sigh. "I knew Wes' wife. We sang in the choir together. She loved Wes until the day that she died — cancer," she added after a second's pause. "He seemed to be doing well, all things considered." She turned into a large office and picked a manilla folder up off of the desk. "There was a witness who overhead Wes before he … before he took his own life," she said, handing the folder to Sam. "He was saying horrible things. How his life was meaningless, how nobody loved him. I don't know why he'd say anything like that. And then ... there's this."

She pointed to the autopsy photos, and Alex leaned closer to Sam to examine the pictures. The veins on the corpse's neck were black as coal, bulging against the skin, and she felt the Winchester stiffen beside her. "Hold on a second. I've actually seen something like this before." His eyes turned down onto the next photo of Wes' side, where the same inky blackness spread down his arm. He passed the file down onto Alex, and the angel flipped through the pictures as Sam asked, "Deputy, tell me, uh, have you noticed any strange phenomena around town? Uh, sulfur smells or power outages? Maybe an unexplained fog?"

Alex narrowed her eyes at the questions, and she closed the file and set it down on the desk behind her, unsure of what the Winchester was insinuating. The deputy seemed equally as confused, and she gave a small shake of her head. "No, sir. It's always sunny in Hope Springs. At least," she added with a frown, "it used to be."

Her eyes drifted up towards the wall-mounted clock, and Alex tapped her fingers on the edge of the desk. "You can go if you want. I think we've seen what we need to see." She waited for Sam to nod before she led the way back out into the hall. Jan disappeared in the other direction, and Alex fell in step at Sam's side. "I take it you've seen something like that before."

"Yeah. Let's grab Dean and get out of here." Sam quickened his step, and Alex rushed after him.

Dean was waiting beside the door when they returned to the lobby, and Alex glanced around to find that the sheriff was nowhere in sight. "Well?" Dean held open the door, and Alex stepped out into the night. "Anything weird? I'm thinking curse. Remember that truth spell —"

"It's not a curse." Sam led the way towards the car with a sharp shake of his head. "It's Superior all over again."

Alex tipped her head at Dean's sharp inhale. "Superior?" he repeated before his eyes went wide. "You think Wes went rabid."

"He had the same black veins as the others." Sam climbed into the front seat, and Alex jumped into the back with a curious twitch of her grace. That was right. Superior, Nebraska. Back when the Darkness had first been released. "That would explain why he went insane. And that means Amara is close."

"Which means Lucifer is, too," Alex added as the car roared to life. "Great. I'll start looking around. She's got to be keeping them in a building somewhere. Someplace abandoned —"

"Whoa, whoa." Dean cut her off, and Alex frowned, her fingernails digging into the door handle as the Impala pealed out onto the road. "If this is Superior, then Wes isn't going to be the last one to turn. We gotta figure out a way to stop it before anyone else gets hurt."

"We have some holy oil in the back. Holy fire is what cured it last time." Sam's fingers drummed impatiently against his knee. "I guess there's nothing we can do except wait."

"Wait and keep low," Alex agreed with a scowl. "The last thing we need is for her to find us without Lucifer and without a Hand of God. We're sitting ducks."

"Yeah, maybe." Dean's agreement was reluctant, and he turned the Impala into the parking lot of the nearest bar. "Tell you what, though. Let's grab some grub and a couple beers, and then we'll hit the case hard first thing tomorrow."

...

 **T** o Dean's disappointment, the next day's investigation yielded no leads. Neither did the day afterwards. There was no sign of Amara, no new bodies, and no more of the "rabids" Sam and Dean had spoken so warily of. The town around them had settled back down into its routine. All of Wes' friends had been clean, and his house was as spotless as any Alex had been in. Even the abandoned buildings and farms around town had proven to be dead ends.

The call came in the morning Dean had promised that they would leave. The sun had barely risen above the horizon, and it had been Alex who had fielded the call; both brothers had still been asleep when Dean's phone had first rung. Another body had dropped on the other side of town. Alex had barely taken the time to recognize one of the names — Deputy Jan Harris — before she had gone to rouse the brothers.

Half an hour later, all three were showered, dressed, and standing outside the Harris household. Two EMTs were in the process of carrying a stretcher down the porch stairs, and the sheriff was overseeing the operation from the front lawn. He turned at the sight of them, a hesitant smile momentarily gracing his thin face. "Sorry I woke you three," he began, and Alex broke away from the brothers to pick her way past the police tape to the coroner's van.

"Agent Williams," she introduced, and she motioned down to the body bag as the EMTs stopped to open up the door. "Mind if I take a look?"

The two men exchanged looks above her head. "If you want," the taller one finally said. "I have to warn you, it's not pretty." He pulled back the zipper, and Alex's wings flittered as the face came into sight.

Perhaps "face" wasn't the correct term, the angel decided after a moment. What remained was little more than a bloody pulp. She could recognize a tooth here, a fractured orbital socket there, but there was nothing left for a positive identification. "Harris didn't show up for work this morning," she heard Mac tell Sam and Dean, and she tilted her head to studying the corpse's neck: no sign of black veins. "We called, tried her CB, nothing. So, I swung by here. I found Art on the kitchen floor, Harris' shotgun right next to him. She … it looked like Deputy Harris shot her husband point-blank in the face then left the scene."

Alex stepped away from the corpse with a murmured thanks, and she left the EMTs to lift the body up into the van. "Did you notice anything off about Deputy Harris' behavior the last couple days?" Sam asked, and the sheriff's eyes darted over to Alex as she rejoined Sam and Dean. He shook his head, and Sam pressed, "When was the last time anyone heard from her?"

"She called in for the last time yesterday," Mac relayed. "Said something about … seeing some fog rolling in. I don't know why she cared about the damn weather."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks above Alex's head, and the angel's wings pulled in tighter; Sam had mentioned that it was fog that carried the rabid disease. "Would you get in contact with your dispatch officer?" Dean asked. "Tell them to let us know if they get any more reports like that again."

"You serious?" Mac barked out an unsure laugh, but it died when neither Winchester shared in his humor.

"Yeah, just to be safe," Dean said, and Sam quickly added, "And do you have any idea where Harris might be now?"

"No. But we can track her vehicle from our office." Mac glanced over his shoulder at the house, and he was silent for a moment before he spoke again. "The station is just a few blocks away. I'll go ask Mason to head this up, and I'll meet you three there."

He walked away, and Alex turned to look up at Sam and Dean. "Art's body is clean," she muttered, just loud enough for them to hear, and she fell in step at Sam's side as they started towards the Impala. "His neck was clean, and there's no other sign that he was one of these rabids."

"Well, if he didn't step into the fog, then he probably wasn't infected." The engine roared as Dean started the car, and Alex slid into the middle of the backseat as she felt it shift into drive. "We need to find Jan before she hurts anyone else."

"So, I guess I'm confused. How exactly do these rabids work? Because so far they've only killed people they're emotionally attached to, but from the way you described it …"

She trailed off, and it took Sam a moment to respond. "It's complicated," he finally said. "They're still … human when they're first infected. But the longer they're exposed, the less human they get. They stop talking, stop thinking. Then they just stop living." The leather seats squeaked as he shifted so he could look back at her. "Some die within hours, but some can live on for days. I guess it just depends on the person."

"And that's assuming this is the same as last time," Dean added, and the Impala turned down the road towards the police station. "Who knows. This — this could be something completely different." The engine died as they pulled into the parking lot, and Alex jumped out of the car, her grace flicking through the air. The sun was above the trees, but dark clouds were gathering on the horizon, threatening to take away the light.

"Who knows what Amara's cooked up." She followed Sam and Dean towards the station, pausing beside the door as a police car pulled up alongside the building. Mac stepped out, and the three hunters let him take the lead into the station. "This way." He led the way down the hall and into a large office room. "We can trace her vehicle here," he announced, and Alex leaned against the table to watch. It didn't take the sheriff long to log in to the system, but soon after that his confidence began to falter. "I can't make heads or tails of it," he finally admitted, and Alex hid an amused smile as the older man squinted at the map on the screen. "Harris is … _was_ our computer person."

"Can I give it a shot?" Sam pushed past Alex, and when the sheriff nodded, he took a seat in front of the computer. The keyboard clacked as he set to work, and Mac moved back to give him space.

"Sheriff?" An officer spoke up from across the room, and Alex turned to watch her hang up the phone and rise to her feet. "Matt and Emmy just called in. They said they saw some fog rolling in by Jasper Hills."

 _Fog?_ Alex felt Sam and Dean's panic spark through the air, mingling with her own. "Did they say where it was headed?" Dean asked.

The officer nodded. "West. Towards town."

Dean glanced back at Sam and Alex, hesitation flickering through his eyes before he spoke. "Okay. Call them back, tell them to get inside, shut their windows and doors and seal it up, and stay the hell away from that fog. Then get the word out to everybody in town. They need to do the same damn thing."

"Hold on." Mac circled around to stand at Dean's side. "What are you talking about?"

"My partner and I have seen this before, okay?" Dean motioned between himself and Sam, and Mac squinted. "Wes and Deputy Harris were infected by something in that fog. Now, I know it sounds crazy —"

"No, it sounds like we should call the CDC."

Alex scoffed at the sheriff's suggestion. "That's not going to do any good. Besides, we don't have time for them to fly in. That fog's here _now_."

"Found Deputy Harris." Sam pointed to the computer screen, drawing all attention back onto him. "Looks like she's on Main Street heading this way." He pushed himself to his feet with a glance back at his brother, and Dean nodded.

"Alright, we'll handle Harris," he decided, and Alex jumped to her feet, her grace twisting nervously within her chest as Dean added, "Just please, get out, tell everybody they need to stay inside, seal up their windows — everything. Do it."

Alex followed Sam and Dean out into the parking lot, and her eyes turned towards the approaching clouds. They no longer looked like storm clouds; Alex could see the thick waves of fog rolling through the sky as it loomed just beyond the edge of town. Pedestrians lined the street, some watching the impending fog, others going about their daily business. A police car sat in the middle of the street, the flashing lights drawing the attention of the gathering crowd.

"Hey." Dean pointed towards a couple who were crossing the street. "Get them out of here." He didn't wait to see if either listened to his order, and Alex glanced over at Sam to make sure that he followed the command before she hurried after Dean.

The door to the vehicle swung open, and Deputy Jan Harris stepped out, swaying slightly as her feet touched the ground. Black veins flowed outwards from her chest, stretching up her neck and down her arms to where her fingers tightly grasped a black pistol. "I tried to kill myself." Her voice shook as she spoke, and blank eyes sought out Dean. "But she won't let me. She has a message — for you, Dean Winchester."

"Amara?" Dean looked around the street, but it was empty, and Alex felt him stiffen beside her. "Is she here?"

Jan shook her head. "No. But her words have been echoing in my head ever since I took a breath of that fog."

"Did she tell you to kill your husband?" Alex's words had the deputy's eyes turning down onto her, and the angel slid forward to put herself in front of Dean as she saw the gun tremble in the woman's hands.

"Okay, listen to me." Sam stopped at Alex's side, and the angel spread her wings out to try and keep him back. "This is an infection. Put the gun down, let us help you —"

The gun twitched in Jan's hands again, and Alex pushed Sam back with a wary arm. "It's not an infection." Jan's voice shook before it grew stronger. "She says it's a mirror. She's showing us the truth."

"The Darkness." Dean's voice had Jan lifting her gun towards him, and Alex jumped forward to put herself in the path of the muzzle.

"The light was just a lie." The gun went off, and three shots echoed through the air. Alex felt one bullet hit her chest, just below the collarbone, and she flinched at the impact, but it was the only one. The other two bullets hadn't simply missed her — Alex would have heard them whizzing past — and the angel's head whipped around.

Mac stood off to their left, his gun lifted towards Jan. The deputy swayed on her feet before she stumbled and fell, black pus bubbling up from her mouth. Two holes punctured the front of her uniform, and the blue fabric staining black with thick, hot blood. She shuddered, brown eyes stretched up towards the darkening sky, and Alex stepped back as Dean rushed past her to kneel at the woman's side. "It will all be over soon." Jan gasped out the words, barely audible. "He's not gonna save them. It's all going away … forever." Her eyes turned onto Dean, and she gasped for one last breath as she whispered out, "But not you, Dean."

Her body quivered one last time as it died, and Alex's wings drew in tight as the air around them grew heavier as the life left her body. "Dean …" she began, but she was overshadowed by Sam's shout.

"Dean." He grabbed Alex as he spoke, and she spun around to find him pointing down the street. "Dean!"

The thick white fog was billowing down the road, overtaking cars and people alike. "We have to get them out of here." Alex's wings flittered as she looked around the street, her eyes stretched wide at the sight of the townspeople around. "Hey!" She bolted towards the nearest crowd of people; they stepped back as she slid to a stop in front of them, and the angel dug around in her jacket for her badge. "Agent Williams. I need you all to get inside and seal up your houses _now_. Do _not_ let that fog get in, okay?" Her wings flared up when the civilians didn't answer, and she repeated, "Okay?"

The group nodded, some rushing out their agreement as they hurried away, and Alex turned to watch Sam and Dean split up. Sam made a beeline for a car near the intersection, banging on the windows to attract the couple's attention, and Dean started towards the other side of the street, pointing away from the fog as he gave his orders.

The fog was rolling closer, picking up speed as it went. It overtook two men who had just stepped out of an apartment complex, and Alex shifted back as she watched them start to cough. "Sam," she warned, and the hunter's head snapped in her direction. "We need to get going."

Sam hesitated, his eyes drifting back towards the infected, and Dean ran up to Alex's side, his fear prickling at her grace. "Come on, Sam! Let them go." He waited only until Sam started towards him before he bolted down the street, and Alex did the same, letting Sam pass her before she lengthened her stride. The fog was upon them, licking at her heels, and Alex pushed herself faster. They barreled through the front doors of the police station, and Alex almost tripped as she slid to a stop, her head whipping back in time to see Dean slam the door shut.

"Agent Ehart?" Mac stood at the far end of the room, a handheld receiver in his hand. "Radio's dead."

"You have any duct tape?" Dean rushed over to him, leaving Alex alone by the glass door. The fog was rolling up towards the building, and Alex's grace lifted to her eyes as she peered deeper into the white mist. She could see the black shapes of people stumbling about, their screams and gasps echoing in her ear, and her feet carried her a step back before she even realized it. "Sam? Alex!" Dean's shouts had her reluctantly turning away, and she jerked back as a roll of duct tape flew in her direction. "Seal up that door," Dean ordered, and Alex's nails scrabbled against the slick tape as she listened to him tell Sam to do the same to the windows in the back.

She started in the top corner, pressing the duct tape in between the door and its frame in an attempt to keep the fog from sneaking through, but the progress was slow, her attention constantly being drawn to the scene that lay on the other side of the glass. People staggered through the fog, their skin marred with black, bulging veins as the infection took hold. They converged on the police station, and Alex jumped back a fist thudded against the glass of the front door. "Dean!" She pressed the last strip of tape along the bottom of the door before she scurried further into the station.

She wove through the small crowd of people to find the brothers in the back of the station, ceiling up the last of the windows and vents. "Hey." Dean barely spared her a glance. "Did you finish?"

"Yeah, but that door out there's not going to hold long. They're trying to break through." Alex cast a worried look back towards the front of the station. "Do you think … I'm worried that Amara is after _us_." She tugged nervously on Lucifer's grace; it remained as small and solid as ever, but the fact that it was still there left her with more comfort than she had before. "You heard what Jan said," she added quietly. Sam's brow knit in confusion, and he looked over into Dean's dark face. "I don't think these people are safe as long as they're here with us."

Glass shattered from behind them, and Alex spun around. "Mac." Dean pointed towards the far offices, his voice deepening in authority and fear. "Take everyone and get them into one of those rooms." He hurried towards the front, and Alex and Sam rushed after him. The air was thick with panic, and Alex struggled through the crowd as Mac tried to direct them further into the station.

The broken glass belonged to the front door, and infected arms stretched through the hole, slick with their blood as the jagged glass sliced their skin. "Shit." Fog flowed inwards, its tendrils curling along the floor, and Alex rushed forward to lock the front door. It clicked shut, and she turned to go, but a hand caught her by the collar of her jacket and pulled.

The jerk pulled her off her feet, and Alex's knees collided with the floor as her jacket was ripped free from the infected's hands. The fog billowed, disturbed by her presence, and Alex spluttered as it filled the air around her. She heard Sam shout her name, and she scrambled to her feet and bolted towards him, dropping to the ground as Sam and Dean slammed the set of metal safety doors shut behind her. "Get back," she heard Dean order, and she pushed herself up to her knees as her grace rose inside of her. She could feel the fog in her lungs, feel how its cold darkness spread through her veins, and her grace fought back against it in vain. The infection was spreading; she could see it in her hands, crawling beneath the skin.

"She's infected." Alex heard Mac speak from across the room, and she pushed herself to her knees as her wings tremored. She could hear Dean shouting commands, and she closed her eyes, pushing back against the darkness in her chest. The next thing she knew, Sam's arms were around her, pulling her away from the door.

"Sam, let's go!" Dean paused halfway across the room, but the Winchester beside her didn't budge.

"We can't leave her, Dean!" Sam hauled Alex to her feet, and the angel's chest contracted in a violent cough. "I can't —" He cut off, and Alex followed his gaze to the vent to their left. The duct tape had peeled away, and tendrils of fog were creeping their way into the room. "Shit. Dean!"

Sam let go of Alex, and the angel stepped forward, grabbing onto the wall as her legs shook. "Wait, Sam, let me —" Her plea fell on deaf ears as Sam moved forward, reaching up to press the tape back into place. It didn't stick, and the fog rolled through. He coughed as it drifted into his lungs, and Alex grit her teeth as she turned to Dean. "Get those people to safety," she ordered. A spasm through her grace had her sinking to the ground, and she grunted in pain. "We'll seal you up."

"No." Dean's eyes stretched wide as he watched the black tendrils creep beneath Sam's skin, but his voice remained as firm as ever. "I'm not leaving Sam."

"Dean —"

"No!" Dean grabbed a roll of duct tape off of the table and hurried over to the office where Mac and the civilians hid.

"Alex." Sam dropped down at her side, taking her head in his hands as he looked into her eyes. "Hey, hey, you okay?" Alex managed a grimace, and the Winchester lifted his voice. "Dean! Something's wrong. I think the fog's affecting her differently."

"Who would've thought it'd affect angels at all, huh?" Dean's response was rushed and distracted, and Alex reached up to put a hand on Sam's neck to steady herself. Her grace prickled against his skin, and she tried to push it inwards to burn away the darkness, but it went limp with a shudder.

She leaned up against the wall and Sam followed, keeping her close as he reclined. "Don't know if we're gonna make it out of this one," Alex joked, but the words were wheezed out. She reached down for Lucifer's grace, desperate for its comfort, but it refused to move even as the infection coursed past it; if anything, it seemed to draw further back.

"Hey, hey, hey." That was Dean, and Alex opened up her eyes. Another window shattered from somewhere in the station, and Alex stifled a groan as the infection wormed its way into her stomach, chewing away at her grace. The fog was everywhere, creeping in through the vent, pouring in through the windows. "There's no quitting here, okay?"

"Dean … we were never gonna make it."

"Sam, listen to me." Dean crouched down in front of his brother, his voice sharp and anxious. "This — this isn't you talking, guys. It's the fog." His words were almost lost beneath the roars of the infected, and Alex's head tilted towards the screams that emanated from the closet. The bottom part of the door remained unsealed, and the fog drifted inwards, consuming those inside.

"You were gonna choose Amara over me." Sam was still talking as the infection spread up his neck. "Over us, over everything." Dean's eyes stretched wide, and Sam coughed, shifting to sit up straighter. "I — I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, Dean. I …" He swallowed, searching to find the strength to speak. "I can't fight this. You gotta go. You have to get out before you're infected, too." Hesitation flickered across Dean's face, and when Alex's body shuddered, Sam's voice rose. "Go before one of us hurts you!"

"No. I'm not leaving you. Ever." Dean's voice drifted off into the distance as the infection rose up within Alex, reaching her head, and she sagged into Sam. She could feel the darkness in him rising, could feel the convulsions that wracked his body, and she pushed the last remaining fragment of her grace into him as the blackness pulled her down.

...

 **S** omehow, she was still alive; she could hear Dean screaming, but the words were muffled, their meaning unclear. Her shoulder was growing warm — no, not just warm, hot. It was burning, but Alex couldn't find the strength to move away.

Suddenly the pain grew sharper, Dean's voice grew clearer, and Alex's eyes snapped open as her grace exploded within her, twisting through her limbs and flashing in her eyes. The darkness was gone from her soul; she could feel it melting away like the morning dew. "What —"

She felt Dean's hand reach under her for Sam's pocket, and she shifted aside so he could pull out what had burned against Alex's grace. Sam's hand moved to the back of Alex's neck, and she let him pull her head into his shoulder, her wings flitting in exhaustion as she watched Dean's hand retreat. What had burned so fiercely against her didn't seem to affect his bare skin, and Alex screwed up her eyes against the light with which it glowed. The fog around them began to dissipate in its presence, and Alex turned her head away, burying it in the crook of Sam's shoulder as she took a moment to regain her composure. "It's okay." She heard the words murmured into her ear, and she reluctantly pulled back away from Sam as a wave of nausea churned her stomach.

The screaming had stopped; the entire town was silent and still. The black veins had faded from Sam's skin — a quick look down at her own hands proved the same. "What —" She swallowed back the word as she let her eyes drift back down onto the object in Dean's hand.

It took her a moment to place it. The glowing light made it hard to identify the details on the object, but the shape of Dean's old amulet was all too clear. "You kept it?" Dean whispered, barely audible, but the question was overshadowed by a bigger, unspoken thought, one that had a shiver passing through Alex's wings. Castiel had once told them that this amulet burned hot in the presence of God. If that was the case, then this …

Dean slowly rose to his feet, and Sam followed, large hands helping Alex do the same. The office door across from them opened, revealing Mac and the townspeople, their skin clear of the infection. "Dean, what's going on?" Alex shifted closer to Sam as she spoke, her grace hesitantly stretching out. "The fog — it's just _gone_."

Dean didn't answer, and Alex slowly followed him out of the police station, her wings drawn in close as she walked on unsteady feet. Sam's hand rested on her back, a silent support as they stepped out onto the street. The clouds were gone, allowing the sun's light to shine down upon the scene in front of them. Cars lined the street, their doors thrown open from the earlier panic, but it was all that remained of the fear that had gripped the town. Its citizens were rising to their feet, slowly at first, their eyes alight with wonder and confusion.

Blonde hair caught Alex's eye, and she watched Deputy Jan Harris rise to her feet, unharmed and uninfected. From how the brother stiffened beside her, she knew they had noticed too. "You okay?" A familiar voice had Alex's wings quivering, and she turned towards the source. She recognized the voice, and she recognized the short, dark-haired man who stood in front of them, but it took a moment for the realization to sink in. She could see Dean's amulet glowing in his hand, pulsing the closer they drew; the corners of Chuck's eyes crinkled in a smile, but it faded as the three hunters came to a stop in front of him. "We should probably talk."

"What the hell's going on here, exactly?" It took Dean a moment to regain his composure, but when he did speak, his voice was sharp. The amulet was still glowing, somehow even brighter than before, and Alex hesitantly reached out with her grace. She could feel Chuck, but something blocked her from probing deeper, like a metal wall that burned hot from the midday sun.

Chuck's eyes flickered onto her, and the angel pulled back, her wings drawing in tightly around her. "I'm happy to … fill in the blanks," he finally told Dean, "but maybe we should go somewhere where we could actually sit down."

Alex's wings twitched before falling low in deference, ready to obey, but Dean merely scoffed, and his fist closed around the amulet. "We're not going anywhere with you," he snapped. "Okay, how do we even know that you're really Chuck and just not some —"

The air around them changed, and for a second Alex was surrounded by pure energy, thick and sweet, and Alex's grace melted beneath it touch. She barely noticed how the air shifted around her, chilling as it faded into the bunker's stone walls. "— crazy spell or manifest…ation." Dean's word died in his throat, and Alex heard Sam let out a breathless gasp.

At what became clear as she lifted her eyes back onto Chuck. He wasn't alone; Kevin Tran stood behind him, his tousled hair a black mop upon his head. He appeared almost solid, but Alex could see the faint flickers as his soul danced upon the edge of the veil. "Guys!" Kevin's eyes lit up, and he stepped out from behind Chuck with a wide grin that quickly began to fade. "You look stressed. Especially you," he added over to Dean. Dean's jaw ticked, and Kevin's smile softened. "I-It's cool," he promised. "Trust Chuck. Whatever it is he needs you to do, he must think you can handle it. I always trusted you."

"Yeah, that ended well," Dean muttered.

"How …" Alex breathed out the word, her voice growing stronger when no one jumped to speak over her. "Kevin — are you okay? We … I thought you were with your mom."

"I was. And I, uh … I am okay, given the circumstances —"

Chuck cleared his throat, and Kevin fell silent. "Yeah, I don't mean to interrupt. Kind of a plateful, here. And Kevin …" He turned to face the prophet, his shoulders just barely rising and falling in a small, soft sigh, "you've been in the veil long enough. It's time you had an upgrade." With a wave of Chuck's hand, Kevin faded, and Alex watched as his glowing soul twisted up through the air and disappear from sight. Her wings quivered, exhausted by the exertion of how low she held them, and her body couldn't help but instinctively flinch as Chuck's eyes turned onto her. "I know this is a lot to take in," he began, and Alex's gaze dropped to the ground. "If you need to take a moment …"

"I …" Alex swallowed thickly, and she forced her eyes up onto Sam and Dean. "I'm going to go get changed," she finally muttered, not bothering to wait for a response before she hurried away; her legs felt like jelly, and they shook as she walked down the hall. Chuck was … God. Somehow, the words didn't sit right upon her tongue, and she held back from speaking them aloud. How could that be? And after so long …

She locked her door behind her, shakily changing out of her slacks and blouse before pulling on a grey shirt and a pair of jeans. How many times had she prayed to him? Anger pulsed through her, pushing past the awe, and her fingers tightened on the collar of her red flannel shirt. How could he choose this moment above all to reveal himself? She swiped her hands through her hair before she dropped down onto her bed. Her grace still vibrated within her, rejuvenated by the brush of Chuck's power, and Alex reached down past it to press against Lucifer. It remained cold, unyielding and unforgiving, and Alex reluctantly drew away. _Just hold on a little longer,_ she pleaded, eyes turned up towards the concrete ceiling. _We'll find you._

No answer came, and Alex reluctantly left the safety of her room and made her way down the hall towards the library. Sam and Dean had already managed to change, and both occupied the war room alongside Chuck. Sam was straddling one of the war room chairs, and Dean sat tucked up on the stone ledge that lined the library stairs, his arms folded defensively across his chest. "O-Okay, uh, 'Chuck' it is," Sam was saying, and Alex slipped behind him to settle down on the edge of the table. It creaked beneath her weight, and Sam hesitated, his eyes flickering onto her, and he stifled a sigh as he returned his attention onto Chuck. "I'm sorry. You — you're gonna have to, uh, give us a moment to start to process. We didn't even know you were around. I mean, I-I-I was hoping you were around," he quickly corrected. "I-I-I prayed, but I — but I didn't know if they got, uh, lost in the spam or if —"

"Sam?" Dean cut Sam off with a frown, and Sam's eyes went wide as he looked over at his brother. "Babbling."

Chuck shifted from where he sat perched on a stool, and Alex dropped her gaze to the ground as his eyes turned across the three of them. "I'm getting that not everyone's totally on board, here."

"Here's the thing, um … Chuck." Dean's fingers drummed on his arm as he thought, and his eyes flickered down before they returned to hold Chuck's gaze. "And I mean no disrespect. Um … I'm guessing you came back to help with the Darkness, and that's great. That's, you know … it's fantastic. Um, but you've been gone a — a long, _long_ time. And there's so much …crap that's gone down on the Earth for thousands of years. I mean, plagues a-and wars, slaughters. And you were — I don't know — writing books, going to fan conventions. Were you even aware, o-or did you just tune it out?"

"Dean —"

"No, no." Chuck shook his head, and Alex fell silent. "He has every right to ask. I was aware, Dean."

"But you did nothing." Dean's voice grew stronger. "And, again, I-I'm not trying to piss you off. You know, I don't want to turn into a pillar of salt. But people — people pray to you. People build churches for you. They fight wars in your name, and you did _nothing_."

His voice cracked, but Chuck's face remained passive in the face of the emotional show. "You're frustrated," he observed. "I get it. Believe me, I was hands on — real hands on — for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created … would grow up. But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way. Being involved is no longer parenting." Chuck heaved a sigh before he finished, "It's enabling."

Anger flashed in Dean's green eyes, but his voice remained quiet and sullen. "But it didn't get better."

Chuck was silent for a moment, his eyes falling to the ground as he contemplated his answer. "Well, I've been mulling it over, and from where I sit, I think it has."

"Well, from where I sit, it seems like you left us and are trying to justify it."

Alex winced at Dean's sharp tone, and even Chuck's soft smile faded. "I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don't confuse me with your dad." Dean's face darkened ever so slightly, but when he remained silent, Chuck turned his attention back towards the group. "That was brave of you to go up against the Darkness like that," he began, "but you need to understand this — she's relentless, a force behind human comprehension. It's the only reason I came off the sidelines."

Sam huffed, a sound of breathy amusement. "Must've been great being her brother, huh?"

Chuck didn't share in his humor. "It was the worse. Always telling me what to do, making me do what she wanted." His eyes darted between Sam and Dean. "You guys know how it is."

"Yeah, well, that's family for you." Alex finally spoke up, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the knees, and all eyes turned onto her. "Do you know where she is?"

Chuck shook his head. "No idea," he admitted. "She's warded herself specifically against me. What have you three come up with?"

Sam's lips pursed, and Dean let out a terse, scornful laugh. "Zip, and we've been trying to find her for months."

The news had Chuck's brow furrowing, but the expression was quickly suppressed. "Well … it's just a matter of time. I've always had faith in you … even if you didn't return the favor." Alex's gaze dropped to the ground, her fingers curling against the edge of the table, and she felt Chuck's eyes turned onto her. "Hey, uh, guys, do you think you can give Alex and I a few minutes?"

Alex shifted uncomfortably as Sam and Dean exited the room. Chuck remained silent, and Alex plucked at a loose thread on the sleeve of her shirt until she finally gained the confidence to speak. "Amara has Cas and Lucifer," she mumbled. "You — there has to be a way to find them. They can't hold out against her forever."

Chuck didn't immediately respond, and Alex's wings drew in tight as she heaved a sigh. The legs of his stool squeaked as he stood, and Alex felt him move to lean up against the table next to her. "Lucifer was my greatest hope and my bitterest disappointment," he finally said. "I trusted him, once upon a time, but now …" His head turned onto her, and Alex forced herself to lift up her eyes. "I wouldn't have put him in that Cage if I thought, even for a second, that he could be trusted. I'm worried that, after all this time in prison, he's worse. And by now, he could have formed an alliance with Amara —"

"No." Alex surprised herself by cutting Chuck off, and her grace jerked nervously against her racing heart. "No," she repeated, softer this time but just as firm, "he wouldn't do that. He's out there, and Amara's hurting him!" She pressed her grace up against Lucifer's, her teeth grit to find that it still refused to move.

"You don't know that he wouldn't." Chuck's voice remained calm, almost irritatingly so, and Alex's feathers ruffled. "I was barely able to beat her back with Lucifer's help. If the two of them have teamed up, then there might be no stopping them."

Alex's fingers curled, her nails digging into her palms as she dropped her gaze to her lap. "Well, I'm getting them back," she promised under her breath. "With or without your help, I'm getting him back."

"I know you will." Chuck patted her knee, and Alex felt her grace twitch under the contact; she could feel the power that thrummed beneath his skin, overwhelming yet soft and sweet, but she couldn't bring herself to touch it no matter how desperately it was craved. "And I wish you the best of luck."

He rose to his feet and started towards the hall, but Alex jumped up, her wings stretching out to steady herself as her anger rose up within her. "You're just walking away?" Chuck paused; his eyebrows lifted, surprised at her outburst, and Alex's grace pulled back, but her anger fueled her words. "Is that all you do? Do you have any idea how — how many times I asked for your help? No — I didn't just ask, I _begged_. I reached the point where I was seconds away from ending it all, and you didn't do a thing. Not one single thing."

Her feathers ruffled outwards, furious at the faint smile that grew upon Chuck's face. "I heard your prayer. But sometimes the answers don't come in the way you expect." He stepped back into the room, and Alex's anger faltered. "That night, what stopped you?"

"From — from killing myself." Alex's jaw twitched as she remembered how the angel blade had pressed up against the soft flesh beneath her chin. "I found Ashiel. Someone had killed his mother and left him there alone."

"Ashiel?" Chuck tilted his head, and his eyes squinted as he studied her. "You're right — I'm sorry. I can see the confusion. The Hebrew language … it's difficult to translate, considering that they have no vowels." With a wave of his hand, a small white slip of paper appeared in his hand, and he held it out to Alex. "His real name is Asahiel."

The paper disappeared, only to suddenly materialize in her hands, and Alex frowned down at the black scrawling across the slip of paper. She recognized it immediately; it had been paper tucked inside Ashiel's shirt. _Asahiel_ , she corrected, and the name translated immediately within her mind. _Made by God._

"The angels told you that they couldn't find his father, right? And that they couldn't find the body of the mother." Chuck stepped back, and the action had Alex snapping her jaw shut; when had it fallen open? "That's because they never existed. It wasn't just coincidence that you found him that night. I created Asahiel — Ashiel, if you want — for you. To save you."

"No." Alex's fist closed, crumpling the paper in her hand. "I — I _saw_ a woman there. She had to have been his mom —"

"You saw what you needed to see," Chuck promised, and his hand came up to squeeze her shoulder. "You were put here for a reason, Alex. I knew that, one day, my creation would need you."

Once again, he turned to go, but Alex stopped him, her grace tugging sharply upon Lucifer's. "Wait!" she begged. "Please, what — what is this? Not even Lucifer knows how, and I … I need to know. Why is this here?"

She felt warmth envelop her being as Chuck's eyes turned onto her, and her grace hummed within her chest. "Sometimes, things happen, and their purpose is what we make them." The warmth faded, and Chuck heaved a sigh. "Where's the guest room? I could use a shower." He waited for Alex to stammer out an answer before he walked away, leaving Alex standing alone in the war room.


	42. All in the Family

**Lebanon, Kansas**

 **A** lex wandered down the bunker hallway, her wings dragging behind her as she stifled a jaw-splitting yawn. Her grace stretched lazily out through the bunker, skittering around Chuck, and she felt out for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean was in the kitchen, Sam in the war room, and Alex adjusted her trajectory to join the youngest Winchester. His attention was buried in his laptop, and he didn't hear her approach until she dropped down into the chair next to him. "Morning." She grumbled out the greeting as she let her head fall onto the table, and she felt Sam's hand brush across her back, drawing back her messy hair.

"Hey," she heard him return. "Did you get some sleep?"

"I tried. Maybe an hour or two." Alex tugged on Lucifer's grace, but it refused to budge from where it sat, hardened, around where Castiel was bound to her. Somewhere within her grace, deep inside her, a warmth was rising up, a growing discomfort no longer hindered without the presence of her mate. "But every time I closed my eyes, I just kept thinking about that pain I felt when Amara took Lucifer. I can't even start to imagine what she's doing …"

She trailed off with a shake of her head, stifling a sigh as she did so. Sam's hesitation prickled through the air, and she rested her chin on her folded arms as she slouched forward. "Well, don't worry," Sam finally said. "She'll have to show herself eventually, and then we'll find them."

The promise in his voice sounded hollow, and Alex grunted as she buried her face in the crook of her arm once again. She could hear approaching footsteps, and she flicked her grace out to find Dean in the hallway, quickly approaching the war room in which she sat. "Hey," he greeted, and Sam's chair squeaked as he turned to face his brother. "Anything?"

"Nada. Thanks," he added after a second, and Alex lifted her head to watch Sam accept an open beer from Dean. Dean grunted in acknowledgement, and he sat down in the chair across from them as Sam continued, "You know, I can't believe I'm about to say this but, for once, I actually wish Rowena was here. I mean, maybe she could track down Amara. She's done it before."

Alex groaned, letting her head fall back to the table, and she listened to Dean take a drink before he responded. "Yeah, but you can bet she and the Book are gonna stay stashed until this whole thing is over." He paused, and Alex heard his chair creak as he looked off behind him. "Where's Chuck?"

"Sleeping in, I guess."

"Does he actually sleep?" Alex reluctantly lifted her head and leaned back in her seat, her wings hanging loosely over the armrests.

Dean shrugged, and the corner of Sam's lip curled. "I know he takes really long showers."

"Right," Dean agreed, "and he sings, too — like, crappy old folks songs." He took a long drink from his beer with a roll of his eyes. "I had to tell him to cool it three times." Sam and Alex exchanged looks, and he added defensively, "What? I sleep."

"I know this is a really strange situation and all, but it's also really amazing, you know?" Sam closed his laptop with a click, and Alex didn't miss the shimmer in his hazel eyes as he chuckled. "I mean, it's God. There's so many things I want to ask him. L-Like, uh, the planets, you know? Why are they round? Or ears. I always thought they were strange —"

"Okay, fanboy, calm down." Dean cut into his ramblings, and Sam clamped his jaw shut with an audible _click_. "Let's say focused. We gotta find Lucifer before it's too late."

"Too late?" Sam and Alex spoke at the same time, and Alex added, "Since when were you actually on board for finding Lucifer?"

"Amara is —" Dean cut off with a grimace. "She's in my head." Sam's head snapped up, his eyes wide, and Dean's fingers tightened around his glass bottle. "Hey, I didn't ask for it, okay? She just showed up. But she's showing me visions of — of Lucifer. By Lucifer, I mean Cas, and he looked like crap — like she's really doing a number on him."

Alex's wings trembled, and she almost missed Sam's "shh" as she reached down to knead at Lucifer's grace. "Hey, morning," she heard Sam say, and she reluctantly lifted her eyes up towards the hall.

Chuck stood in the doorway behind her, a dark robe tied tightly at the waist and a cup of coffee in his hands, and Alex dropped her eyes, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second. "Is that my robe?" Dean snapped, but Chuck looked past him, his eyes seeking out Alex; she flinched as something thick and sweet, overpowering to the touch, enveloped her grace.

"I'm telling you guys." The warmth pulled away as footsteps approached, and Alex let out the ragged breath she didn't know she had been holding. "It's a mistake to get mixed up with Lucifer. As much as it pained me, I had to walk away." Alex grit her teeth, her muscles straining to keep her wings from fluttering angrily. The footsteps stopped behind her, and she flinched sharply as a hand came to rest on her shoulder. "Too much drama. Do you guys have any bacon?"

"You eat bacon?" Dean grinned, seemingly unaware of Alex's frustrations, and the hand on her shoulder pulled away.

"Hey, guys, this just came up." Sam spoke up, and Alex shifted her chair closer to him, pressing her shoulder into his to get away from Chuck. "Looks like that fog, the, um … Amara fog, uh, it hit another town."

"And?"

"And this town wasn't as lucky as the last one." Sam glanced over at Dean, his narrow face darkened. "Thousands died. Uh, everybody died. Except for this one man."

Alex chanced a look up into Chuck's face, but it remained blank. "How'd you miss that one?" she muttered scornfully.

Chuck's eyes turned onto her, and she dropped her gaze back onto the table. "She's baiting me," he explained with little more than a shrug, and Alex dug her teeth into her bottom lip to stop herself from snapping. "I can't respond every time. I won't be manipulated."

Sam shifted in his chair next to Alex, and she curled one wing up to brush against his back as Dean snapped, "Yeah, but thousands of people are dead!"

"Unfortunately." Chuck dropped down into a chair at the head of the table, and Alex watched as he took a long sip from his coffee mug. "So find her."

A pulse of fire churched through Alex's stomach, and she pressed her face into Sam's shoulder, using the thick flannel to stifle a hiss of pain and surprise. Sam pulled back, and his strong arm wrapped around her shoulders to keep her close. "Hey. You feeling okay?"

"She's starting to go into heat." Chuck answered the question, and Alex felt her face flush with embarrassment.

She glanced over at him, jaw set to hold back a scowl, and when he said nothing more, she prompted, "Well? Do you want to maybe do something about it, or am I just going to have to _suffer_?"

The wheels on the metal chair squealed as Chuck rose to his feet, and Alex's wings drew in tight as he approached. "I'm sorry about the angels," he began. "They're good at a lot of things, but creativity isn't one of them. Joining grace to a soul is, uh — it's difficult enough as it is, and honestly, I'm surprised that they managed anything as complicated as this. But sometimes simpler is better." His hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Alex winced at the overpowering rush of warmth that poured through her. "I — luckily for you, I think I can rewrite this, uh, line of code, if you will, without unraveling too much."

His fingers twitched against her shoulder, and Alex gasped as her grace melted beneath his touch. She wasn't sure what was happening; it was too fast, too complex, and throughout it, Chuck kept talking.

"Don't worry, it's a simple fix. This might hurt — I think Lucifer might have altered this knot here to subdue it." Alex grunted as her grace jerked painfully, and she held back a gasp as her heat leapt up within her before it quickly quelled. "There." Chuck stepped back, and Alex's hands came up to press against her stomach as he walked away. "That shouldn't bother you again."

"Thanks." Alex watched him go with a thin frown; only once he was out of sight did she turn her attention inwards to her grace. Lucifer's grace still remained inside of her, but the heat was gone, leaving no remnants behind. She flicked her wing off towards where Chuck vanished from. "I'm going to go grab my things. Let's get out of here."

...

 **Lewis, Oklahoma**

I **T** he Impala rolled to a stop outside of a grey stone building marked in white letters as the Lewis Police Station. The air was sharp with freshly-fallen spring rain, and Alex drew in a deep breath as she stepped out of the car. She could hear people inside the station; she could smell their anxiety, so strong that not even the rain could wash it away. "They're scared." She muttered the words under her breath, just loud enough for the Winchesters to hear, and Sam placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Can you blame them?" Dean adjusted the tie around his neck as he spoke, and Alex mimicked him by straightening the collar of her blouse. "Let's hope this one survivor knows more about it than the cops think."

He led the way into the station, and Alex fell in step at the rear, her broken wings twitching as she stepped over the threshold. She let the Winchesters introduce themselves to the officer behind the desk, instead busying herself by letting her grace stretch out through the building. The root of the station's anxious air was seated in the back, and Alex reluctantly drew her grace back in.

A hand brushed across her back, passing through her wings, and Alex turned to follow Sam and Dean down the hall. "Alright," Dean began, "cops confirmed that this guy is the sole survivor of the town. He says that his name is Donatello Redfield."

 _Donatello Redfield_. The name flashed across Alex's eyes, and the angel's feet froze to the ground. "R-Redfield?" she repeated, and her grace flipped within her.

Both brothers turned to look back at her, and Dean's jaw tightened ever so slightly. "Yeah. Why, does it mean something to you?"

"He's a prophet. I don't know how — Metatron's spell was supposed to have deactivated the line — but I know that he's one." Alex's grace stretched out through the station, searching for the prophet's soul.

"And I thought Crowley rounded up all the future prophets and tried to kill them," Sam added. "I feel like I would have remembered the name."

"I guess it's possible that he missed a few." Alex tried to peer past the Winchesters, but the prophet remained out of sight. "Maybe this has something to do with Amara, and not … Chuck. Or maybe not," she added after a moment. "Honestly, at this point we're so far out of my league, I just don't know what's going on."

"It could have been Amara's fog," Dean reluctantly agreed. "Could it have Amara's God power?" Alex glanced over at Sam with a shrug, and when no answer came, Dean heaved a sigh. "Well, let's go talk to him."

The hallway opened up into a large, well-lit room where a man sat at the far table, his hands nervously playing with a worn napkin. He jumped as the three hunters stepped into view, and his eyes stretched wide at the sight of their suits. "Professor Redfield," Dean began, "FBI." He lifted his hand to show off his badge, and Alex circled off behind the man as the brothers sat down at the table.

"C-Call me Donatello." The man's voice shook, and Alex watched how he shifted in his seat until she moved back to stand beside Sam's chair. "Yeah, I-I'm named after him."

He forced a chuckle, and Alex felt Dean's eyes momentarily flicker up to her. "The … Mutant Ninja Turtle?" he asked.

Sam's head snapped over to his brother, and Donatello's gaze darted across Sam and Alex before they returned to Dean, searching for any sign that the hunter was joking. "The, uh, Renaissance sculptor," Donatello finally corrected.

"Right, of course."

Sam cleared his throat, and Donatello turned back to him. "The cops think I'm a terrorist," he started, his voice rising to the point of panic. "I-I teach chemistry at the University. I lead a quiet life. I have a cat! _Had_ a cat," he corrected after a moment, and his face fell.

"Well, we're, uh, sorry for your loss." Sam folded his hands atop the table, and after a moment's pause, he added, "Just a few questions. Um, other than the fog, did you notice anything or anyone that seemed out of place on the street that night?"

"It — it all happened so fast." Donatello ran his hands through his grey hair, and he took a moment to adjust his thick-set glasses before he shakily launched into his story. "I, uh … it was like it came out of nowhere. We hardly ever get fog, and never like that." He chuckled, but the humor was forced, and his face paled. "It was horrible. They were clutching their throats like — like — like they were choking. And, oh. Their bodies … oh my God — these terrible black streaks." Beads of perspiration gathered on the man's hairline as he gave his account, and Alex pulled up a chair beside Sam so she could sit. "And … and that's when it happened." Donatello's eyes flickered closed, and when he opened them, they shone with a new intensity. "It was like nothing I've ever felt before in my life. It was like my head was exploding, only not with pain, with — with knowledge and … and clarity. Things that I'd never known before. Symbols and — and voices — in languages I don't speak! The horrible visions of … destruction … and death." His eyes closed once again, and his shoulders fell as his voice softened. "You must think I'm crazy."

"We don't." Dean scrubbed at his head, and after a moment's pause, he added, "Alright, I need a coffee." He pushed himself to his feet, and Alex turned to watch him leave before she turned her attention back onto Donatello.

The man's gaze had returned to his hands, and he had begun to pick small pieces from the corner of his napkin again. "Um … am — am I under arrest?"

"No," Sam promised. "Just, uh … we want to check out a few more aspects of your story." He pulled out a pen and notepad from his pocket, and Alex leaned back in her chair as she watched the Winchester scribble down a few words upon the paper. "Here we go. Would you look at this? Try and read it a little."

He pushed the notepad towards Donatello, and Alex tipped her head to glance at the Enochian phrase. The man's eyes went wide at the sight of it, and he frantically looked between the two hunters. "Oh, I can't. I — I don't know anything about it." He reluctantly looked back down when Sam pushed the notepad even closer, and Alex watched as his shoulders stiffened. " 'Behold the face of God.' " His head snapped up, his mouth open. "That came right to me. Who speaks this language?"

"Angels." Alex's wings twitched as she spoke. "Congrats, Donatello. You're a prophet now." She glanced over her shoulder towards Dean; he was standing beside the coffee machine, frozen in place, and her lips flickered down into a frown. It lasted only a moment before her phone rang, and Alex directed her scowl towards the string of numbers across her screen. "Hello?"

"Alex. Long time no see."

"Metatron." Alex's feathers bristled, and her chair legs squealed as she rose to her feet. "How did you get my number?" Sam stiffened next to her, and Alex pressed her phone into her shoulder. "Get Donatello to the car so we can go. I gotta take this."

She stepped out of the room, waiting only until she was out of earshot before she returned her phone to her ear. " — your number a long time ago," Metatron was saying, and Alex rolled her eyes. "And trust me, I've been keeping my distance. But I couldn't help but notice that you've been in touch with Chuck. Well, I've got some … information you're gonna need to know."

"What? That Chuck is Chuck with a capital 'G'?" Alex gave another dramatic eye roll as she leaned up against a wall. "Yeah, been there, heard that. You're gonna need to come up with something better."

"No, no, that's old news." A note of some emotion crept into Metatron's voice; if Alex didn't know the scribe any better, she could have sworn it was desperation. "I have something I need to show you — in person. I'm guessing all three of you are in Oklahoma. Yes, I heard about the fog on the news," he added when Alex let out a sharp breath through her nose. "Let me guess — Chuck's latest mouthpiece has surfaced."

"How do you —"

"Meet me at Flying Tap Ale House in Lebanon tonight. I'll be waiting."

"Wait —" The phone clicked as Metatron hung up, and Alex bit back a scowl. "Okay, great. Great." She shoved her phone into her pocket as she set off in search of Sam; her grace found him heading towards the front door, Dean and Donatello close behind, and she hurried off after them.

Dean was waiting just outside the station. "Sam said Metatron called you." The distaste in his voice was clear, and Alex didn't bother to hide her scowl as she followed him towards the car.

"He did," she agreed sourly. "He says that he has something he needs to show us. He's waiting back in Lebanon." She glanced up in time to see Dean's face tighten, and she added, "If you want, I'll go talk to him alone. You guys can drill Donatello or — or do whatever our plans for him are." She circled around to the backseat of the Impala, pausing only long enough to make sure that Dean was following before she climbed inside. Donatello was sitting in her seat, his hands folded in his lap, and Alex stifled a sigh before she slid in next to him. "Speaking of, what exactly are our plans for the prophet?"

"I — I can't be a prophet!" The words burst out of Donatello's mouth as the Impala roared to life, and Sam and Dean exchanged looks from the front seat. "I am an atheist and a chemist! I-I believe in molecules, not God!"

Alex stifled a snort, and she caught sight of Dean's frown as Sam said, "Alright, well, we're pretty sure that prophets don't know they're even in the game until they've actually been touched by God, so …."

"I-I was touched by God?"

"Or possibly by his sister, Amara," Dean added, and Sam's eyes flashed.

Donatello gasped, a hand clutching at his chest so tightly that Alex had to reach out with her grace to make sure the prophet wasn't having a heart attack. "He has family?"

"Yeah." Sam ground the word out with a quick glare at Dean. Donatello's eyes widened, and Sam heaved a sigh. "She wants him gone so she can annihilate the universe. That's the headline."

"And since you might have a hotline to her," Dean jumped to add, "we're hoping you can help us find her."

Alex felt Donatello's eyes turned onto her, and she let her attention drift out the window as she said, "We need you to help us find Lucifer. Her … nephew, I guess. Who is also possessing another angel. My mate." Her fingers plucked at a scrap of fuzz on her dress pants, tearing it into smaller and smaller pieces.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, and Donatello's lips fell open in a silent 'o.' He hesitated only for a moment before he scrambled for the door, tugging fruitlessly on the handle; the car door refused to budge. "It's locked."

"Yeah, that too," Dean added when Donatello tried to reach across Alex for the other door. "Sometimes we keep monsters in the back."

Alex pushed Donatello back to his side of the car, her wings twitching crossly as his chest contracted in a breathless sob. "I-I-I — I can't do this!" He scrabbled at the handle again, and Alex reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, her grip erring just on the side of too tight to gather his attention. "I promise you, I can't do this!"

Alex caught Dean's gaze in the rearview mirror, and he rolled his eyes. "Look." Sam turned in his seat so he could look back at the two of them, and Alex let some of her grace trickle inwards to calm Donatello down. "We can't force you to do this. You've got to want this."

Alex felt the prophet's heart rate slow, and she drew back as he let out a shaky laugh. "It — it's like asking me to believe in Santa Claus."

"Oh, well, actually —"

"Dean, not now." Sam shifted in his seat, and Dean stifled a sigh.

"Okay, look. We — we're not asking you to believe that this is true, just act like you do." He paused as the Impala accelerated up the highway, and he finally finished, "People do it all the time." He chuckled, and Donatello fell silent, his jaw clenched as his eyes stared forward into nothingness. Sam's nostrils flared, displeased at the comment, but he didn't reply, and Alex turned her eyes out the window as silence overtook the car. Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down to see a message pop up from the black screen. She didn't recognize the address, but she recognized the number. Metatron. The phone vibrated again, and the address was replaced with another text. _Meet me there at eight. Don't be late._

...

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **T** he string of white lights outside the Flying Tap Ale House illuminated the wet pavement, casting flickering balls of light that bounced among the puddles that had gathered along the uneven sidewalk. A faint brush of a breeze stirred the leaves of an elm, and Alex's wings fluttered as droplets of water trickled down upon her.

The door creaked as she opened it, but the sound was lost beneath the sway of the music that thrummed through the cheap speakers. "Oh! Barkeep!" A familiar voice had Alex turning towards the bar, and her lips curled in a barely-perceived snarl. "Dos margaritas. Top shelf tequila please for my amigo. Her treat." Metatron's grin had Alex's wings flittering, but she stilled them with a deep breath.

"I'm not paying," she muttered, and she dropped down onto the barstool next to the scribe. "Alright, Metatron, I'm here. I swear, if you try and pull something —"

"Pull something?" Metatron scoffed, and Alex caught sight of how his shoulders twitched; hers instinctively did the same, and her feathers rustled. "What could I possibly do? Look at me. I've lost my grace. I've got nothing."

His face fell, and Alex couldn't help but roll her eyes upwards. "If you're looking for pity, you're not getting it from me," she warned, and she lowered her voice as the bartender returned with their drinks. "You _stabbed_ me." Metatron didn't reply, and Alex stifled a sigh. "Alright, fine. You said you knew who Chuck was. How? Have you known this whole fucking time?"

Metatron hesitated, and he drew out the silence by reaching for his margarita. "No," he finally admitted. "Actually, he came to me just last week. I had no idea." He chuckled, but the humor was quick to die. "What has he told you?"

"Uh, not much of anything, I guess. He sings a lot." Alex narrowed her eyes as she thought, and after a moment, she added, "He seems set on taking on Amara, which is good."

"He what?" Metatron leaned towards her, and Alex reeled back. "He said that? With those exact words?"

"Uh, sort of. Pretty much." Alex shook out her wings as she settled back down in her seat. "Why?" Metatron didn't respond; his face darkened as he fell into a pensive silence, and Alex tapped on the bartop. "What? You think he isn't going to actually do it?"

"Oh no. No, no, no, no." Metatron shook his head, and he took a small sip of his drink; after a moment, Alex did the same, her feathers curling at the taste. "He's — he's going to —" The scribe struggled with his words. "He's gonna … meet with her. He's just not gonna take her down. He's going to … sacrifice himself. Let her do whatever she wants with him."

"Yeah right." Alex slammed down half of her drink with a loud scoff, but her shoulders dropped ever so slightly. "Are you … did he tell you that?"

"Not exactly." Metatron turned to rummage around through the old leather bag that was slung across the back of his seat, and Alex wrinkled her nose at the odor that arose from its contents. "Here." He heaved a bound paper stack upon onto the bar. "Ignore the typos, but go ahead and read it. It's in his own words." He slid it closer to Alex, and the angel flipped through the typed pages with a frown. "It's not an autobiography. It's a suicide note."

"You're joking." Alex's grace twisted inside of her, and she reached down to pluck at the cold ball of Lucifer's grace, a pit in her stomach. "I — can I take this?"

"Take it. On one condition." Metatron's hand came to rest on the manuscript, and Alex's grey eyes narrowed. "Let me come with. Let's face it — Chuck's given up. You're going to need all the help that you can get." His face darkened as Alex hesitated, and he added, "Look, I watched God create this place — I wrote its secrets down myself. I know what makes Amara tick."

"You —" Alex's teeth clicked as she slammed her jaw shut, and she drew in a breath through her nose to calm herself. "Okay. Look, you want to help? Amara has Lucifer, and we need him back."

Metatron's face went blank, quickly replaced by a smug smile. "You're not — you _are_ , aren't you? You're back with him." His head tipped back as he chuckled, and Alex's fingers curled into fists as she waited for him to gather his senses. "Poor Castiel. How did he take it?"

Alex's wings bristled, and she clenched her teeth even as she reached down to desperately tug at Lucifer's grace. " _He's_ the one who let Lucifer out. He's the vessel. And _none_ of that's the point. Lucifer is — apart from Chuck and Amara — he's the strongest thing on this planet, and for once, he's on our side." Her hands dropped to her lap, and her fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt. "Chuck thinks he's going to join Amara, but I know he hasn't. I could feel his pain before he tied himself off, but even now I feel … I can just feel it in my bones." Her jaw trembled, and Alex turned her eyes up. "So Chuck is — is what? He's going to give up let Amara …" Alex placed a hand on the manuscript, running her fingertips over the rough paper.

"He's going to give himself over to her, I guess." Metatron offered up a shrug before he waved the bartender over with a loud, "Hey! Keep 'em coming." If he caught sight of Alex's frown, it didn't show. "He wants to trade himself in place of creation."

"Noble, but stupid." Alex's hand clenched, and the pages crinkled. "Amara's not looking for a trade — she wants to _kill_ him and everything he made. He's the only one strong enough to kill her, and if he just gives up —"

Her hand jerked back as Metatron snatched the manuscript away, and her broken wings flicked in an apology as he smoothed down the wrinkled cover. "All the more reason to get Lucifer back," he agreed, stuffing the book back into his bag. "And to utilize my offer for help."

His words rang true in the angel's ears, but she still managed a scoff. "I can't just bring you back to the bunker. Dean —"

"What's more important?" Metatron leaned forward, and even though his voice was soft, his words rang clear over the clamor of the bar. "Dean, or everything else in existence?"

...

 **T** he old building that sat atop the Men of Letters' bunker glowed in the light of the half moon, its shadows dancing across the surrounding fields as Alex turned the Marquis up the dirt driveway. The car's headlights cut through the darkness to illuminate a solitary figure; they stood beside the bunker's exterior stairs, arms crossed, and Alex felt her wings draw in tight as the car rolled to a stop. She could almost smell Metatron's anxiety, but the scribe hid his trepidation well as he stepped out into the night. "Sam. Good to see you."

Sam's nostrils flared, and his eyes turned across the car in search of Alex. "Are you sure about this?"

"He says he can help us find Lucifer — which is more than Chuck is planning to do." Alex's gaze flickered past Sam towards the bunker door. "Did you tell Dean we were coming?"

"Yeah, and he's not happy about it. Come on." Sam waved them after him, and Alex took up the rear as they entered the bunker. She could hear Dean talking in the room below; his voice echoed on the concrete walls, cutting off when they entered. Sam led the way down the stairs, casting a glare back towards Metatron as he reached the landing. "Alright, Metatron, be quick." He circled around to sit down at the war room table beside his brother. "And don't touch anything."

"Fine." Metatron's gaze swept the room, and he grinned as it landed on Dean. "Dean! Thanks for inviting me."

"I agreed to let you in." Dean's green eyes darkened as he glanced over at Alex, and the angel flicked a wingtip in his direction. "That's not inviting you."

Metatron's attention had already wavered, and Dean's jaw ticked as the scribe turned onto the prophet, who sat at the head of the table. "Oh! Donatello!" Metatron let out a small, gleeful laugh as he extended his hand. "Pleasure to meet you. Metatron, scribe of God." Donatello slowly moved to shake his hand, and the scribe added, "I was there when you were designed. I wrote your name on the inside of the angel's' eyelids."

Donatello's eyes widened, and his chair creaked as he turned toward Dean. "He's freaking me out."

Dean scowled. "Okay. You said you wanted to help. Besides world-class douchery, what do you have to offer?"

"You didn't tell him?" Metatron's voice grew high in faux-indignation, and Alex rolled her eyes. "Well, let's see. I only transcribed the tablets and know all of its spells, _and_ I know what makes Amara tick." He dropped down into the open seat beside Donatello, leaning forward so he could look Dean in the eyes. "And don't forget, I worked with the big guy for eons. Shall I keep going?"

He reached for an open beer that sat upon the table, but Sam surged forward, snatching it out of Metatron's hands. "Ah! That's mine!" He set the beer down in front of him before he turned to Dean. "As much as I hate to admit it, I think Alex made the right call. Maybe he can help."

Dean scoffed, and Metatron folded his arms on the table. "Listen, bub. You need all the help you can get — even douchey help."

Dean's eyes flashed, but he managed to keep his voice under control. "And since when did you jump on the God wagon?" he asked. "You never used to give a damn."

"Well, I didn't — at one time. Now that he's gone all kamikaze, leaving us with the Darkness —" He paused when the Winchesters exchanged looks. "Oh, she didn't tell you about Chuck's plan?"

Eyes turned onto Alex, and the angel reluctantly dropped down into the seat next to Metatron. "I was waiting until we were here," she muttered. "Chuck's not going to fight the Darkness, guys. He's going to surrender to her. A deal, I guess. Him for creation."

Sam's eyebrows knit together in silent confusion, but Dean's hand came down onto the table with a loud _thwack._ "Deal?" he repeated. "Amara's just going to eliminate him, and then she's gonna destroy everything else!"

Alex shrugged, and Metatron heaved a sigh. "Trust me, we know. I was by his side since creation. He believed in me. If there's something I can do to help him and his creation then, uh … it seems like I should."

Dean's face darkened, and Alex grace flipped inside of her as the silence grew. A wing curled forward across the table to brush against Dean's shoulder; whether the Winchester felt it or not, the action had him stirring from his thoughts. "The plan is to rescue Lucifer from Amara," he finally announced. "Then he can teleport us out of Amara's hideout and we convince Chuck to use him to fight her."

"That's your plan?" Metatron scoffed, and Dean's eyes narrowed. "Do you even know where Amara is?"

Alex caught Sam's gaze to find her own apprehension and disappointment dancing across his face. Dean was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft. "Um, I might know where she is. I've been getting this vibe. Uh, like a ping in my cerebral cortex."

"Oh, so either Amara or a stroke." Metatron let out a wry chuckle, but the humor faded at the Winchesters' stony faces. "And how exactly are we supposed to keep Amara busy while we're … liberating Lucifer?"

"I'll distract her." Dean dragged the words out, and Alex fidgeted in her seat. "She'll talk to me, and that'll give you all a chance to get in and out without her even knowing." He paused, but when no one protested, he pushed himself to his feet. "Alright. I'm going to go talk to Chuck. You all should go and get some sleep. We'll leave first thing in the morning."

He left, and Alex waited until he was gone before her eyes darted around the room, searching for someone to meet her gaze as her teeth dig into bee bottom lip. She found Sam, and the Winchester's face darkened to match hers before he rose. "Uh, you heard him." He pushed in his chair, adding, "Try and get some sleep." The words were directed at Donatello, but his eyes rested on Alex, and the angel stifled a sigh, nodding out her agreement as the Winchester walked away.

...

 **Westport, Massachusetts**

 **T** he Impala roared down the deserted road, tearing across the cracked pavement and depraved potholes. Alex sat in the front seat, her hands toying with her phone. Her grace enveloped Lucifer's, clenching tight in hopes to break through the knot, but it felt as hard as steel. She shifted on the seat, stifling another impatient sigh. "Are we getting close?" The words blurted out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she cast a look over her shoulder with an apologetic grimace.

Metatron and Donatello sat in the backseat; the prophet was pressed as close to the door as he could possibly manage, his shoulders hunched as he tried to bury himself in a book, but Alex could see how his eyes scanned the page over and over again, never flipping onto the next. "We should be getting close." Metatron, in contrast, lounged in his seat, the only sign of his discomfort a faint flicker in his pale eyes. "What do you think, Sam?"

Alex turned to the Winchester beside her, her wings twitching when the hunter didn't immediately answer. She tugged again on Lucifer's grace, trying in vain to follow it out of her body towards him, but the thread dwindled to nothing at the edge of her grace. "We're almost there," Sam finally said, and Alex craned her head to peer off down the road. "Let's hope Dean has already drawn Amara away."

Donatello stifled a squeak, and Alex huffed. "Remind me why exactly we brought _him_?" she muttered, just loud enough for Sam to hear. "He didn't believe in ghosts three days ago — he's not ready to go out on something like this."

"He's the only one who can sense Amara. He'll tell us if she's close." The car jerked as Sam accelerated over a crack in the road, and his jaw set. "Look, I don't like bringing civilians in on this, either, but you and I both know he's more than just that. There." He pointed down the road, and Alex's head snapped forward in time to see an old factory appear through the trees. "That's got to be it."

Alex's fingers went to her seat buckle, fidgeting with the latch as she waited for the Impala to drive through the broken gate and stop along the rusted silo. She reached for the door the second the engine died, but Sam's hand caught her by the jacket. "Hey." He pulled her back, and Alex's fist curled as she resisted yanking free. "I want you to check the perimeter, okay? You're the only one who can see wardings. We'll meet you inside."

Alex's mouth fell open, ready to snap, but she could feel her throat tightening, constricting around her words. The car doors slammed shut all around her, her silence taken for acquiescence, and Alex bolted out of the car. The three men had paused beside the trunk, crowded together as Sam once again repeated the plan, but the angel didn't stop to listen. Her feet carried her towards the door before she caught herself; it took a moment, but she forced her feet to carry her down the uneven concrete that surrounded the building.

The steel that served as the walls had rusted and bubbled, and Alex carefully skirted a small side shed that had completely collapsed inwards. She lifted her grace to her eyes, but nothing before her seemed to change. A shiver passed up her spine as she circled around the back; was Amara overconfident in the security of this hiding place, or was this a trap?

The thought vanished from her mind as she reached the front again. Sam and the others were gone, but a voice could be heard through the open door. "— wow. It's one of Dad's favorites. Your ticket finally got punched, huh?" Lucifer let out a rasping chuckle, and Alex's feet carried her through the door.

What exactly the archangel was suspended on, Alex wasn't tell. It looked manmade, constructed of wood and rivets, but the rotted wooden poles that supported Lucifer's wrists were unlike anything she had seen. They held his arms out and suspended him in the air; only the tips of his toes reached the wooden platform upon which he was situated. She watched as Lucifer's wings twitched at his side as he looked down at Donatello; it wasn't until the dirt beneath Alex's feet crunched that his head turned, and the weary humor died from his bloody face. His eyes narrowed, and a growl rumbled in his chest. "Who let you come along?"

"I _chose_ to come along." Alex moved past Sam to circle around Lucifer, and she added, "We're getting you out of here." Nothing bound him to the wooden structure, but her grace could feel the spellwork from where she

"Well, it seems fair since I wouldn't _be_ here if you lunatics hadn't set me up to be grabbed by Amara." Lucifer's wings shuddered as Alex's hands brushed across them, and he clicked his tongue. "You can't just break me free," he warned.

Alex reached out to touch the contraption to which the archangel was tethered, and it leapt to life beneath her fingertips, burning at her grace. She jerked her hand back with a shout, and Lucifer's grace immediately arose to soothe the pain; the knot came undone, and with it came a tidal wave of agony. Alex's legs collapsed, and she hit the dirt-packed ground with a thud. "Hey!" Sam hurried to her side, and Alex grunted as Lucifer's grace recoiled and hid behind its wall. "I'm fine." Alex pushed off Sam's help as she struggled back to her feet. "I just …"

She shook her head, falling silent as her eyes turned back to Lucifer, and Sam's narrow face twisted in a scowl. "Alright, Lucifer. You're gonna help us take Amara down. If you say no, we'll just leave you hear in Abu Graib."

"Sam —!"

Alex's exclamation was cut short by Lucifer's chuckle. "Say no?" he repeated, and his laughter broke into a wet cough that rattled in his chest. "You see what she's done to me? Do I _look_ like a fan?"

Sam gave a curt nod, and Metatron moved to stand at Lucifer's side, his eyes squeezed out as he began muttering under his breath. Donatello retreated behind Sam, and Alex circled back to stand in front of Lucifer, one hand planted on his chest. Blood stained the collar of his coat, and his lips curled in a pained snarl as Alex pushed her grace up against his. "I was worried Amara was going to kill you," she murmured.

Lucifer scoffed, his bruised and bloodied face scrunching in pain at the action. "Kill me?" he repeated, and his grace pressed back against hers, forcing it back into her body. "I was her bargaining chip. If torturing me couldn't drag the big guy out of hiding …" Alex glanced back at Sam, and she felt Lucifer's chest vibrate beneath her fingertips. "What?" He blinked blood out of his eyes as he looked down at the four of them. "You —" His teeth flashed in a grin. "You mean the big man actually showed?"

"Yeah, he's back. And he's got a really stupid plan." Metatron's mumblings picked up, and Alex forced herself to step away with a flick of her wings. "Come on, Metatron. Hurry it up."

"You understand you'll be working with your father," Sam said, and his arms folded across his chest as Alex circled back around Lucifer. "Is that going to be a problem?"

Alex paused by his back, and she reached out to touch his wings; even they appeared dull. They shuddered violently beneath her fingers, and Lucifer couldn't hold back a low groan. "That's family," he got out through gritted teeth. "This — this is bigger. Stop," he hissed when Alex pressed her grace up against his, and Alex's wings drew in tight at his tone. "Listen. What happens in heaven stays in heaven, alright? Just get me out of here before she comes back."

"Metatron, are we getting any closer?" Sam's hands fell back to his side as he paced behind the scribe. "Dean can't stall forever."

"I'm narrowing it down." Metatron barely spared Sam a glance before he returned to his recitation, and Alex retreated to Sam's side, her hands drumming on her thighs as she waited. She felt Sam's hand rest on her shoulder, his fingertips rubbing tight circles into her muscles to relieve her tension as much as fight off his own.

She could tell the moment Metatron's spell worked. The air grew colder, and Lucifer's grace swelled within her, still tightly knotted but strong and fluid. Lucifer groaned, and his wings sagged against his back. "Hey!" Alex tore herself free from Sam's grasp as she rushed forward. Lucifer's head lolled back as he collapsed, and Alex caught him in her arms. "It's okay, I — I got you."

Sam cleared his throat, and Alex jerked her head back, her wings flapping twice as she sought out the Winchester. "Hey, Lucifer, zap us out of here," he snapped. "Quick!"

"Oh, no can do." Lucifer's muscles quivered, and Alex pulled him close, one hand curling in his hair. She pressed her grace into his, and the archangel trembled again as he struggled to sit up. "Looks like I'm temporarily grounded. Equipment malfunction."

"Let me help." Alex tugged on the knot of grace, but it refused to budge. "You can't —"

"G-Guys?" For the first time, Donatello spoke, and Alex's head snapped up. His eyes were stretched wide, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. "I-I'm feeling her! She's coming!"

"Alright, we gotta get out of here." Sam hauled Lucifer to his feet, and Alex jumped up to help the Winchester support the archangel. Donatello hurried ahead of them, his eyes darting between them and the door. "Metatron, come on!"

The scribe hadn't moved from where he stood beside the wooden contraption, and Alex couldn't help out her wings flapped impatiently. "It's okay, Sam." Metatron's eyes turned around the room, and his jaw quavered before he clenched it. "You go."

"What?" Sam spun around, and Alex pulled Lucifer out of his grip, her teeth grit as she guided the stumbling archangel towards the car. "Come on!"

"I'm serious. I got this."

"Sam!" Alex paused in the doorway, her toes curling in her shoes. "We need to go now." Her eyes met Metatron's, and the scribe's head dipped in a small, barely there nod. Lucifer stumbled, and Alex tore her gaze away to help him to the car.

He collapsed into the backseat, his wings limp, and Alex bent to tuck his legs in so she could crawl in beside him. "Front," she heard Sam order, and she slammed the door behind her as Donatello jumped into the passenger seat.

The engine roared to life, and Alex pressed her hands into Lucifer's chest as the Impala tore off towards the road. "Hey, hey, hey." Lucifer's eyes had rolled into the back of his head, and Alex pressed her grace inwards; her nails dug into his skin at how his grace churned against hers, a biting winter's wind. "Hold on," she begged, and her throat stung as the archangel's eyes flickered shut. "It's going to be okay. Just — just let me in."

The Impala flew over a hill, and Alex's wings flared out, smacking into the metal roof as the car jostled. She opened her mouth, ready to snap, but the words died in her throat as they rounded the bend. Amara stood in the middle of the road, her pale skin glowing in the sunlight. Tires screeched, and Alex wrapped her arms around Lucifer as they were thrown forward against the back of the front seat. The car groaned as it came to a sudden stop. "Sam!" Alex heard her own voice rise in a shout — to her surprise, Lucifer's arms enveloped her and pulled her into his chest.

She heard the tires squealing against the pavement, but the car refused to move, held still by Amara's outstretched hand. "You really aren't worth saving." Her voice rang clearly through the cab of the car. "None of you." Her fingers curled into a fist, and Alex buried her head in Lucifer's chest.

Then the Impala jerked, and the sunlight vanished. Alex could still feel her limbs, could feel her wings, and after a moment, she cracked open her eyes. Concrete walls surrounded the car, lit by familiar incandescent lights. "No." Alex's voice cracked, and she untangled herself from Lucifer's grip as she reached for the door. "No way."

"Where — where are we?" Donatello stumbled out of the car, coughing at the smoke from the tires. Alex didn't answer, too busy on helping Lucifer crawl out of the backseat, but the answer sat on the tip of her tongue, along with a thousand other questions.

"We're home." Wonder filled Sam's voice as he started towards the hall, and Alex slipped her shoulder under Lucifer's arm as they followed. "We're back at the bunker."

The hallway opened up to the war room, and Alex felt Lucifer stiffen as they passed through the doorway. Chuck stood beside the table, his eyes a mixture of worry and faint amusement. "Occasionally, I do answer a prayer." He set a six-pack of beer down upon the table and took one for himself, and Lucifer stumbled forward out of Alex's arms as Chuck cracked open his drink. His wings trembled under the strain of supporting himself, and he leaned up against a concrete pillar as his father's eyes turned onto him. "You've changed."

The archangel sniffed, a noise that sounded more pained than scornful. "You've changed," he retorted, and the arches of his wings lifted in defiance as Alex moved forward to steady him.

"Well, still … I'm really pretty much the same." Chuck snapped his fingers, and Lucifer shuddered as a bright light enveloped him. The bruises and cuts faded from his skin, and even though the archangel suppressed a gasp, Alex could feel the flash of warmth that coursed through his ice-cold grace. "Your brother's outside," Chuck told Sam, and his attention widened to include Alex and Donatello. "Can you three give us a moment?"

Sam immediately beelined towards the bunker door, Donatello close on his heels, but Lucifer caught Alex by the arm before she could take a step. "Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of her." Despite the strength in his voice, his grip was frail, and Alex's hand went up to cover his.

Her eyes flickered to Chuck, ready to leave if he protested, but Chuck merely heaved a sigh. "We can go up to the library." Alex tugged on Lucifer's hand, urging him around the table and up the short flight of stairs; his footing had grown stronger, but he still leaned upon her shoulder as they ascended. Chuck followed at a slower pace, and Alex glanced behind her to eye the remaining beers on the table; whatever conversation was going to ensue, a drink would surely make it more bearable.

She waited until Lucifer was on flat ground again before she slipped away, wings drawing in tight as she tried to duck past Chuck; she was stopped before she could pass, and an unopened drink appeared in his extended hand. Alex muttered out her thanks, and she retreated back towards Lucifer. The archangel had picked up a book, his attention seemingly on the pages, but Alex could feel the sullen anger that thrummed through his being. "So," he finally began, "where were you?"

"That's a …" Alex felt Chuck's gaze land on her as he paused, and he sighed. "It's a long story. How do you feel? I healed you."

"Mm." Lucifer's wings merely flicked, but his grace thrashed within him. "Yeah. Didn't ask you to."

Alex sunk down into a chair in the corner of the room, flinching as her beer opened with a loud _pop_. Lucifer's book snapped shut as his gaze swung over to her, his brow knit together, but Chuck kept his back to her as he leaned up against the table. "Son, be reasonable."

"One cosmic band-aid on my knee and, what, you think we're even now?" Lucifer's eyes flashed as he turned to his father, but Chuck didn't flinch away. "Is it time for us to go play catch in the yard?" Chuck frowned, and Lucifer scowled. "Screw you." He dropped his attention back down onto the book, and Alex turned her head as she heard the bunker door open.

"Guys?" Dean's voice echoed through the room, and she pushed herself to her feet, thankful for the distraction. The brothers were descending the bunker stairs, and Alex hurried out to meet them before they could reach the library.

"Hey," she greeted. "They're still … talking. More of fighting, actually," she added in a low voice.

Lucifer's grace twisted within her, beckoning her back. "Listen," she heard Chuck begin, and the angel reluctantly made her way back into the library, "I know I've been gone awhile. I've missed a few … million … birthdays —"

"Yeah, and the second your apes send a distress signal, boom. Daddy's home." Lucifer's grace twisted harder, and Alex skirted past Chuck to inch closer to the archangel, making sure not to come between the two.

"That's not what happened —"

"Hey." Dean appeared in the library doorway, Sam at his side. "These apes saved your ass."

Lucifer's face twisted in a scowl, and his fingers snapped as his grace exploded within him. Alex rushed forward to stay his hand, but the surge of power never passed his skin. She heard Sam inhaled, a breathless gasp, but Lucifer's rage never reached him. The archangel's scowl darkened, and Alex pressed her hand into his chest, her fingers curling in his shirt in a silent, panicked plea.

"He can't hurt you." Chuck's words cut the tension, and it snapped.

"Oh, so you're controlling me now!" Lucifer's wings lashed at the air, and Alex shied away, pressing herself closer to his chest to avoid getting caught in the crosshairs of his feathers.

Sam and Dean jumped back; only Chuck remained still in the face of the archangel's anger. "It's just a safeguard."

Lucifer's eyes glinted like ice, and Alex flexed her hand, trying to break his gaze and draw his attention back onto her. "Hey, guys?" Sam finally spoke up, and Alex turned her head to search out his face. He stood next to his brother, his fingers curling nervously at his side as he regarded those in front of him. "Uh, Chuck? Lucifer …" He waited until all eyes had turned onto him before he cleared his throat. "Think we can try and focus here? Uh, y'know, end of the world, common enemy, all that?"

Lucifer's book snapped shut with a _thud_ , the noise so close to her ear that Alex almost flinched away. "Enemy of my enemy is a friend." He stepped forward, and Alex stumbled to the side, a wordless gasp falling from her lips at how roughly he brushed her aside. He stopped in front of Chuck, and although his wings stayed at his side, his feathers bristled with fury. "So go team Amara."

"You don't mean that."

Lucifer stared down into his father's eyes, and even as his fists clenched at his side, his grace trembled. His voice, however, remained strong and scathing. "You're really not gonna say it." Chuck remained silent, and Lucifer's wings flapped in a single show of emotion. "Fuck you." He spun around and stormed into the hall; with one glance back at Chuck, Alex moved to follow, but Lucifer wheeled around in a flurry of feathers. _Don't follow me_. The words never breached the air, but Alex still cowered back as if they had been shouted to her face.

She watched Lucifer disappear from sight, her jaw clenched to keep back the tears that had sprung up in the face of his rage. She heard Chuck turn to go, muttering, "Kids, huh?" to Sam and Dean before he too exited in the opposite direction.

The library fell silent, and Alex's muscles trembled as she felt Sam's hand come to rest on her shoulder. She could feel his hesitation and when he spoke, his voice was soft. "Hey, listen, we'll, uh, we'll take care of Chuck if you want to talk with —"

"No." Alex's hand went up to brush against's Sam's knuckles, and she quickly pulled it down again as a shiver passed up her wings; was her voice shaking as much as she was? "I — I think I'm going to give him some space." Sam's hand squeezed gently before he pulled back, and Alex listened as the brothers walk away.

...

* * *

 **So, next week is the last week that I'll be posting! There will be one more chapter in this book, and then on Thursday I'll post the final chapter as a prologue for the next season in its own work. Unfortunately, as an adult with a full-time job and other life commitments, I don't know how long the next installment will take, but rest assured, it is coming.**


	43. We Happy Few

**Alright, last chapter of this book. And because some people have been asking, I decided to bring back one particular character (that I most certainly didn't forget about at all … whoops)**

* * *

 **...**

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

 **T** he bunker lights buzzed above Alex's head, but the sound was lost beneath the steady _thwack_ of fists against the worn brown punching bag. Her feet moved silently on the wood, carrying her back and forth as she struck and retreated, her hands rising up to block an imaginary blow before she lunged forward to land another hit. The lights above her head flickered, and that information briefly registered in the back of her mind, but Alex pushed it away; she had felt the surge in Lucifer's grace that had caused the electrical instability but, like the rest of his tempers, she had elected to ignore it.

She dropped into a crouch, hands up to cover her head as she pretended to duck a punch, and in the moment of silence, she heard approaching footsteps. Her wings stretched out as she spun, her feet sweeping out as if to knock her opponent off balance, and she straightened up as the door swung open. Sam led the way through, followed closely by Dean, and the angel's face darkened before the door had a chance to close. "Hey," Sam greeted, a thin smile accompanying his words, and Alex returned it; her grin faded at the sight of Dean's frown. "You got a moment?"

"I guess." Alex reached out to steady the swinging punching bag as she spoke, and her eyes flickered between the two brothers. "Let me guess. This is about Lucifer."

"He's not coming out of your room," Sam began, but his words were overshadowed by Dean.

"He's locked in your room." Dean's green eyes flashed, and his fists shoved deep into his jacket pockets. "And he's blasting some, uh, god-awful music." Sam's lips pursed at the pun, but Dean's stony face never changed. "You haven't even tried to talk to him since he stormed off."

"Give him a bit of slack, okay? He's been through a lot these past couple of days." Alex let the bag go, and the chains creaked loudly as it settled. "You saw what Amara did to him. And now with Chuck …"

"Oh, of course you're gonna side with him."

"Well, _somebody_ had to be." Alex's wings flapped, and she clenched her jaw to quell her anger. "Alright, fine. I'll go try and talk with him." Her grace twisted within her, and she drew it back as it instinctively reached out for Lucifer. "But I don't think he's going to want to hear anything that isn't from Chuck."

She brushed past the Winchesters on her way out the door, her wings flicking as she started down the stairs. She took the long way through the bunker, stopping in the kitchen doorway as she heard ceramic clinck. Chuck sat inside, a cup of coffee resting in front of him — he looked up as she paused, and Alex's wings fell reverently low. "Oh. Uh, hey."

"Hey." Chuck's eyes dropped down onto his drink, and Alex stepped backwards, ready to turn tail, but Chuck's voice had her hesitating. "Let me guess. Sam and Dean want you to talk to Lucifer." Alex plucked nervously at Lucifer's grace, mouth open to reply, but Chuck merely sighed. "I didn't realize how similar the two of you were until I saw you side by side. No wonder his grace has latched onto yours."

"Okay …" Alex's shoes scuffed against the concrete floor. "Are you just saying that for fun, o-or did you want to do something about it, or —"

"Do something?" Chuck's chair creaked, and he reached up to scratch at the back of his neck. "I don't know — short of ripping it all out, there's not much I can do. If you want me to, I can try —"

"No." Alex's hands went up defensively, and her feet carried her one step back. "No, I-I think I'll just keep it, if that's alright with you." She felt Lucifer's grace quake again, and the lights flickered above their heads. In the distance, bunker stairs creaked, and Alex's head instinctively turned towards the source, her grace snapping out to find Sam and Dean headed their way. Chuck's gaze followed, and Alex took the distraction as a chance to dart out of sight, her feet carrying her through the library and towards her bedroom.

The door, unsurprisingly, was locked, and Alex rapped twice on the wooden frame. "Luce?" Her call was lost beneath the heavy bass and, with a roll of her eyes, she let her grace slip out to undo the pin that held the door shut. The room inside was dark, but Alex could make out the archangel lying on her bed, his arms crossed and his wings drawn in tight. Alex sighed, and she flipped on the lights as she closed the door behind her. She expected a reprimand, but Lucifer said nothing; emboldened by his silence, Alex crossed the room to turn off the music. "Really?" She glanced back over her shoulder as she spoke, but Lucifer's mouth remained shut in sullen petulance. "This isn't even real music — did you really just search 'loud obnoxious metal' and play the first thing that came up?" She quit the tab, and the music died. Lucifer's grace reached out past her to try and it turn it back on, but Alex batted it away. "Sorry, can't let you do that. Dean's about ready to kill." She turned back to her computer and pulled up her own music, adding, "Here."

She crossed over to the bed as Volbeat's 'Heaven or Hell' thrummed through the speakers, just loud enough to mask the impending conversation from outside ears. She sat down on the edge of the mattress, her wings drawn back, and her fingers drummed in time to the beat as she waited for Lucifer to speak. It took a moment or two, but eventually he sighed. "You're mad at me, aren't you?"

"No." The lie jumped from her mouth, and Alex's black wings twitched crossly against the stiff sheets. "Yes," she corrected, and her eyes flashed. "You _promised_ me that you wouldn't hurt Sam or Dean, but then yesterday you sure as hell tried to!" She opened her mouth, ready to comment on how lucky he was Chuck had stopped him, but a second thought stayed her tongue. "But … I forgive you," she finished. "You were hurt, and you were angry."

Lucifer's eyes finally turned onto her, narrowed in accusation. "What do you want?"

"I just want to talk," Alex said. Lucifer turned away, and her hand shot out to stop him. "Not — not like that. I won't even mention His name unless you bring it up, okay? I just … want to talk." Lucifer remained silent, and Alex hesitantly reached out to brush a wing against his. "Here. Just let me …" She gently tugged on the knot of his grace and, to her relief, the archangel let it come undone; the strands loosened and began to uncurl, slowly at first, before they twisted free and snapped into place. A chill settled beneath her skin, and Alex felt some of the tension leave her muscles. "So, um … how's Cas?"

"He's fine." The bed creaked as Lucifer sat up, his shoes thudding against the concrete floor as he turned his back to her. "I don't think he felt half of what Amara did." His wings twitched, and after a moment of silence, he rose to his feet, circling around the foot of the bed to stand in front of her. "I talked with him, actually. He told me what he said to you."

His brow furrowed, face darkening ever so slightly, and Alex winced. Right. "I figured you'd be happy to hear I'm more or less without a mate now." The words sat bitterly on her tongue, and her eyes dropped down to her hand to watch her thumb rub against her knuckles.

Lucifer sat down next to her, and one crimson wing curled around her shoulders. "He's still your mate," he reminded, and Alex pressed her cheek into his arm. "And, as far as I know, the only way to break such a bond is to make another." His grace bumped up against hers, and Alex scowled as her neck glowed with her bond. "Of course," she heard the archangel muse, "I could simply rip it out, but I'm not sure either of you would survive."

Alex scoffed, burying her face further into his shoulder. "Yeah, I don't think Dean would be happy if you killed Cas."

Lucifer's fingers curled in her hair, holding her close, and she felt his chest vibrate in a hum. His grace rose within her, twisting and tugging as if exploring, and she felt his wings twitch curiously. "You were close to going into heat when I … left. You should be burning up."

"Yeah." Alex's wings twitched, and she couldn't help the warmth that flushed through her cheeks. "Well, he-who-should-not-be-named took care of it. I guess he, like, rewired my circuits or something. Apparently it was a pretty simple fix." Lucifer grunted, his wings flicking sourly, and Alex shifted so she was straddling his thighs, her face buried in the cool crook of his neck. "Which was probably for the best," she murmured against his skin. "I don't exactly have Cas around anymore."

Lucifer's hands rose up, and Alex's back instinctively arched as they found the base of her wings. She expected him to speak, but the archangel remained silent, his eyes narrowed in thought as his fingers idly toyed with the small feathers that brushed against her shirt.

It was the vibration of Alex's phone from her pocket that had him pausing, and the angel reached back to retrieve it. "It's from Dean." She scanned the text before she tossed her phone onto the nightstand. "I, uh, I guess Chuck is willing to talk if you want to listen." Lucifer's shoulders tightened, and she added, "If you need more time, I understand, but … look, Amara is still out there, and she needs to be stopped before — before she takes out an entire _continent_ to prove her point!" Alex pulled back so she could look Lucifer in the face, and his hands dropped down to her hips as Alex tugged nervously on his tie. "Unless … Luce, you weren't serious about being on Amara's team, right?"

Lucifer scoffed, and he reached up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. "What do you think?" His hand dropped down to cup her cheek, and Alex leaned into the touch. "Fine. I'll hear what he has to say." His wings nudged her to her feet, and Alex's grace snuck out to turn off the music. The archangel rose, and his feet angled towards the door before he paused. "How did you keep it together when you met your father?"

Alex froze, and her hand went up to grab at her necklace. "I didn't," she admitted. _I shot him._ "I guess … as long as you don't try and kill Chuck, you'll do better than I did."

...

 **T** he curtains that decorated the back of the library were drawn to the side, revealing the defunct copper telescope that sat tucked away in its observatory. Two chairs sat in front of it; Chuck sat in one, waiting, and Alex felt her grace shrink away as his eyes turned to watch her approach. Her eyes flickered over onto Sam and Dean, who stood between the chairs and the telescope. Sam's eyes were on the ground, but Dean lifted his chin, his lips tight in an undisguised frown. Both brothers disappeared from sight as Lucifer's wing curled around her, and his grace twitched defensively as his fingers threaded through hers.

Alex stopped beside the two chairs; Lucifer paused with her, but Alex nudged him forward with her wings. He obeyed, his wings dragging behind him as he dropped down into the seat across from Chuck. The library fell silent, both waiting for the other to speak first, and Alex's feet shifted nervously as the tension grew. "One of you is gonna have to, uh, go first," Sam finally said, and two pairs of equally blue eyes turned onto him. "You — you know what? Lucifer, you agreed to have a sit down if Chuck would show, so —"

He gestured to Chuck, and Dean added, "And Chuck, you did say you'd talk."

"Him first." Lucifer flicked a wing towards his father, the crimson feathers skimming across the polished floor. "I'm the one who's owed an explanation."

Chuck sighed, a small, frustrated noise, and Alex saw Sam's shoulders fall. "Okay, let's try 'I feel' statements," Dean suggested, and he glanced over at Sam with an added with a whisper, "Dr. Phil." Sam shrugged, and Dean move back to sit on the steps beside the telescope. Sam followed, and after a moment's hesitation, Alex did too, perching beside Sam as she waited for Chuck to begin.

His face was dark, brow furrowed pensively, and it took him a second to speak. "I am … sorry … that you feel that I betrayed you," he finally said; his eyes flickered over to Dean, searching for confirmation that he was doing the right thing. "That I acted without a cause." Lucifer's grace curled within Alex, and the young angel tore her gaze away from Chuck in time to see Lucifer roll his eyes. Sam shifted next to her, discomfort darkening his gaze, but Chuck carried on. "I'm sorry that you can't see you gave me no choice," he finished, and his hands folded in his lap as he turned to the hunters. "I think that's good."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, his lips curled in a grimace as his gaze sought out Alex. "You heard that, right?"

Alex pressed her grace up against his, and she felt him grab hold, squeezing so tightly that she couldn't hold back a grunt of pain; thankfully, the sound was lost beneath Sam's words. "We all know that you're God, but maybe — could you be a little less …. 'Lordly'?"

Chuck's brow furrowed. "But I am — I am the Lord."

"Wow. There he goes." Lucifer threw his hands up in exasperation, and his wings spilled out childishly across the floor as he leaned back.

"I did what I had to do!" For the first time, emotion crept into Chuck's voice, and Alex leaned forward. "To create the world, I had to lock Amara away. And when the Mark corrupted you, and I saw you posed a threat to humankind, I did the same to you."

"No, you _betrayed_ me!" Lucifer's wings snapped up, his crimson feathers fanning out to fill the air. "You gave me the Mark to lock her away, and when it changed me — when it did what the Mark _inevitably_ does — you threw me away." His grace tightened its hold, and Alex had to tear herself free before it crushed her.

"No, son. The Mark —" Chuck paused. "You always cast a jaundiced glance towards humans. The Mark didn't change you. It just made you more of what you already were."

Lucifer's feathers bristled, and Alex felt his grace crackle. "What I was, was your son." Desperation crept into his voice, and his wings twitched, drawing in closer to his back as he leaned forward. "Your _child_."

"Why should I put you first above all others?"

Alex shifted closer to Sam as their voices rose, and the action had Lucifer's gaze snapping onto her. "You have any idea what it's like to argue with your father when your father is God?" He forced a coarse laugh, and his eyes turned back onto Chuck. " _Everything_ is a tautology with you. Everything is 'because I told you so.' Everything's 'it _had_ to be done.' "

"Pretty sure that's all fathers," Dean joked, and Sam cleared his throat to silence him.

"Okay, fine." Lucifer straightened up in his seat, drawing in a breath as he did so, and his wings relaxed as he forced them to be still. "Big picture, as God, you did what you had to do. But little picture? You _sucked_ at being a dad."

"Okay, maybe I didn't handle everything … perfectly," Chuck admitted. "But tell me: could I have kept humankind safe with you on the board?" Lucifer's eyes narrowed, and Chuck did the same, his voice growing sharp. "I know about your little bid to replace me with the angels. Okay, 'New God,' what would you have done about you?"

"That's _not_ the _point_!"

Chuck's mouth hung open, confusion darkening his eyes, and Sam cleared his throat as the silence grew. "I-I can't believe I'm actually about to say this," he started, "but, um … Lucifer is right." His hands rubbed together as Chuck turned on him, but his voice remained strong. "All he wants is an apology, and you're too concerned about being right to give him one. But apologies aren't always about being right. Sometimes they're just about apologizing."

"Yeah," Dean added, "and the great thing about apologies is that you don't even have to mean 'em. You know, I lie and tell Sam I'm sorry all the time." Sam's nostrils flared as he glared at his brother, and Dean's teeth flashed in a smile. "Sorry." His grin grew, and he looked back at Chuck. "See?"

"Enough from the peanut gallery." Chuck dismissively waved his hand, and energy twisted through the air, overpowering yet warm, sweeping her off of her feet. For a moment, she was falling, and Alex's wings barely had time to curl in around her before she was on the floor. Sam and Dean were above her, perched on two red leather chairs. "The fuck?" Alex pushed herself to her feet as she looked around the small nook on the war room's balcony, and her grace reached out through the walls. Lucifer and Chuck were still downstairs in the library, just out of sight when she peered over the iron-wrought railing; she probed at Lucifer's grace, trying to catch a glimpse of their conversation, but something firm and warm kept her out.

"What are they doing?" Dean's voice distracted her, and Alex pulled back. Lucifer's grace caught hers, reluctant to let her go, and Alex firmly extracted herself from his grasp.

"I don't know." Her wings twitched crossly as she turned back to the Winchesters. "Chuck's keeping me out, so they must be talking." Her eyes flitted towards the stairs, and she added, "I guess they'll let us know when they're done." Her fingers drummed on the stone chess table as she fell silent, and Dean pushed himself to his feet with a muttered curse. He headed towards the stairs, and Alex lifted her voice. "I — I wouldn't go down there just yet."

She strained her ears to hear, but silence came from the room below. Sam and Dean stood quietly, listening just as hard, but from their frustrated expressions, Chuck's wall had blocked them out as well.

She felt it the moment the conversation ended; the energy faded, dissipating like mist in the morning sun, and she jumped to her feet as footsteps approached. Lucifer and Chuck appeared from the library; Lucifer was grinning, and Alex let out a breath of relief. "Well?" she heard Dean demand. "Are we good?" Lucifer and Chuck exchanged looks before they nodded, and Alex saw Dean grin. "Okay! Great."

"So, what's the next move?" Alex slipped past Sam to hurry towards the stairs, her grace curling forward to reach Lucifer. "I'm hoping it involves killing Amara."

"Amara needs to be stopped, but I won't kill her." Chuck shook his head, and Alex paused halfway down the staircase. "Listen, Amara's been caged for, y'know, billions of years, but she's always been there. She had to be there. You know, yin and yang. Light and dark."

"English, Chuck."

With a huff and a roll of his eyes, Chuck waved his hand, and Alex's wings drew in tight as she was swept off her feet and deposited unceremoniously onto the floor at the bottom of the stairs. Her wings stretched out to steady her; from the gasps of surprise from behind her, it was clear that the Winchesters were experiencing the same lack of balance. "There's a harmony, a balance, in the universe," Chuck explained. "Light needs dark. Dark needs light. If you blow one of them up, then, I mean —"

"It wouldn't be a good thing," Lucifer finished, and a wing reached out towards Alex, beckoning her closer.

"It'd be really not a good thing," Chuck agreed. "Like, 'end of reality' not good."

The Winchesters exchanged looks, a silent conversation passing among them, and then Sam shrugged. "Okay, so we gift-wrap Amara. I mean, we got the team back together, so —"

He motioned to Chuck and Lucifer, but Chuck simply shook his head. "Not quite. We're still a few members short of the original line up." He descended the library stairs, and Alex skirted him to sit on concrete column that jutted out from the wall.

Lucifer moved after his father, but he paused at Alex's side. "Yeah, last time it took the combined strength of me and my brothers to weaken Amara before Daddy-O finished her off."

"And even then it was close," Chuck finished. He paused beside the war room table, his arms crossed as his face darkened pensively. "Now with just the two of us, we'll lose."

"Okay, so what?" Dean leaned up against the table with a thin frown. "We need more, uh, group therapy between you and the archangels if we wanna have a shot?" He crossed his arms, his shoulders tense as his eyes swept across the room.

"Raphael's dead," Alex reminded, and she felt Lucifer's wingtips brush up against her thigh. "Michael's curled up somewhere in the Cage right now, and from what I've heard he's not exactly in any fighting shape, and Gabriel …"

She trailed off as two sets of eyes turned onto her, and her cheeks burned. "Gabriel is dead." Sam spoke slowly, unsurety drawing out each word. "Right?"

"Um … wrong." Alex shifted uncomfortably on her perch as Dean's face darkened. "Or at least, he wasn't dead when he fled from the Elysian Fields." Lucifer's hand came up to rest on the back of her neck, a cool comfort to the heated embarrassment that scorched her skin. "But I haven't heard anything from him since the angels fell," she finished.

"And we don't have time to retrieve him," Chuck added, and Alex tipped her head; what could that mean? She leaned forward, hoping for an explanation, but Chuck carried right on without one. "And you're right. Michael is in no condition to fight, and it's beyond my power to bring Raphael back."

"But you restored Castiel." Sam glanced over at his brother, his brow knitting together, and Dean shrugged.

"Archangels are different," Chuck said, and Alex felt Lucifer's feathers puff out in pride. "They're the stuff of primordial creation. Rebuilding them, that's — that's time we don't have."

"Then why not just make more angel-angels?" Alex suggested after a moment's pause. "Or what — what about Metatron? He was smart."

"Metatron's usefulness lay in his knowledge, but there's nothing he knows that I don't. As far as his strength … he's not stronger than any other angel in heaven. As for making more …" Chuck hesitated before he sighed. "I could, but it would take a hundred — a thousand — to match the power of even one archangel. To create them, to write out each of their names — that's time we just don't have."

He leaned up against the back of a chair as he faced the Winchesters, and Sam's face scrunched up. "So, what do you need to win?" he asked.

"What do ya got?" Chuck shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he looked between Sam and Dean. "What do we bring to the table to make up for archangel power?"

Silence fell, and Sam's eyes darkened pensively before they lit up. "We could try and find more Hands of Gods," he suggested after a moment.

"Crowley still has the Horn of Joshua," Alex added, and Lucifer's cold fingers massaged at her neck before they pulled away; she watched him circle past the stairs and around the table to stand next to his father, his crimson wings drawn in thoughtfully.

Chuck shook his head, and he lifted up both of his hands. "A bit redundant."

"What about Crowley?" Dean finally spoke up, and Chuck's eyes turned onto him. "Big demon power, former King of Hell. He was a player in his day."

Lucifer scoffed, and he dropped down into a chair, leaning back in it as he threw his feet up onto the table. Alex planted her hands on the stone below her, poised to follow, but a look from Dean had her dropping back down, her head turned to hide a roll of her eyes. "Okay," she heard Chuck agreed, "talk to him."

"We have the angels." Lucifer's chair creaked as he leaned back even further, and Chuck nodded, allocating the task to him.

"Rowena," Sam added, and Lucifer's smug grin darkened into a scowl. "I mean, she's a snake, but she's a powerful witch."

Chuck shrugged, and four sets of turned onto Alex. The angel hesitated before she shrugged. "Sorry, guys, Gabriel was sort of my big revelation, but I guess he's unavailable for service. I mean, we got angels, demons, witch." She nodded to each person in turn before she shrugged again. "I've got nothing else to add."

She watched as Sam and Dean exchanged looks; Dean's jaw set tightly, and Sam heaved a sigh. "We'll talk about it later," he promised. "Okay, well then I guess you can come with one of us."

"Dibs." Lucifer jumped to his feet, and Alex rolled her eyes as his grace tugged her across the floor to rest at his side.

A scowl marred Dean's face, but Chuck carried on. "Getting these groups to enlist and then work together, it's not gonna be easy," he warned as he settled down against the table, and Alex moved to to do the same; Lucifer, however, sank down into his chair and pulled her after him, leaving her seated awkwardly upon his lap.

"Why don't you just compel them?" Dean asked; from the way his voice tightened, he had noticed where Alex sat, but his eyes never left Chuck.

Chuck shook his head, and the table creaked as he adjusted his weight. "I invented free will for a reason. You can't make an effective soldier by force," he added when Dean's frown didn't lighten. "They have to choose to fight."

"But they're gonna want to know they're backing a winner," Dean argued.

Lucifer's grace twitched, a silent question, and Chuck gave a curt nod. "Okay, great." Alex tried to push herself to her feet, but Lucifer held her still, his hands on her waist. "So we get everyone together, and hit Hela with everything we got before Ragnorok starts. And once she's weak —"

"Then I finish her off," Chuck finished; despite the strength behind his words, hesitation still danced through his eyes.

"So, a page from the original playbook." Sam circled around so he could sit at the table, choosing a seat as far away from Alex and Lucifer as he could. "This time with witches and demons subbing for archangels."

Lucifer nodded, but Dean just shook his head. "I still don't like it." Alex turned her eyes onto him, and she felt all other eyes follow. Dean's shoulders rolled back, face with all four of them, but his voice remained strong. "But — why trap her when you can kill her, you know? I-I mean, you got to admit, there's a lot less room for error if you shoot to kill."

"I explained why."

"Right." Dean quickly jumped to agree with Chuck, but his face remained dark. "But why — why keep her in play? So she can escape and we can go through this all over again?"

Sam's chair creaked as he leaned forward. "Dean, what is this about?"

"I — nothing." Dean's fingers twitched at his side, and he crossed his arms as his eyes flickered over onto Alex. "Am I the only one thinking rationally here?"

"It's about her, Sam. It's about his girlfriend." Lucifer nudged Alex upwards, and she moved to sit on the table as he straighten up in his seat. Dean's glare sharpened, but Lucifer's eyes stayed on Sam. "I mean, think about it. Dean Winchester meets the biggest evil in the universe, and he takes a pass? Come on. Now he wants Daddy to do what he couldn't."

"Okay, shut up." Dean bristled as Sam's eyes turned onto him. "I'm not getting into it with _him_. Not gonna happen."

Amusement flitted along Lucifer's grace. "Hey, Dean. Come on, what's good for the goose is good for the gander." His wingtip flicked off towards Chuck, and Alex twisted around to look back at him. "We opened a vein for you two."

Dean's gaze flattened, and it took several seconds for him to speak. "I tried to kill her. And it didn't work."

"Maybe it didn't work because you didn't want it to work," Chuck suggested, and Dean's face tightened. "Maybe you didn't want to kill her."

Dean's lips pressed tightly together, and Alex heard Sam shift at the silence that followed. "You want God to kill Amara because you don't want Amara to be killed?" His chair creaked as he leaned forward, and Alex slid off of the table to stand behind Lucifer's chair

"Yeah," Dean reluctantly agreed. "Maybe there's a part of me that just can't hurt her. But if she's already dead —"

"Then she's already dead," Sam finished. "Right."

Lucifer's chair scraped against the concrete floor as he pushed himself to his feet. "Well, that got weird." He held out his hand towards Alex and, when the angel didn't take it fast enough, he caught her by the wrist. "And on that note, I think we're going to head out." The wind whipped through Alex's hair as he took off into the sky, and she closed her eyes, her broken wings drawn in tight around her. Lucifer's hands held her by the waist, and his grace curled around her own, a steady support despite the turmoil in the air around them.

Then, all was calm, and Alex's feet found solid ground. The walls and floors glowed, and Alex stepped out of Lucifer's arm with a murmured thanks. "Where is everyone?" she asked, flicking her grace out as she spoke.

"They'll be here soon." The white glow flashed red, a high pitched screech drowning out Lucifer's words, and the archangel rolled his eyes; a snap of his grace had the alarm disappearing. Footsteps pounded against the floor, approaching from all sides, and Alex's wings rose defensively, her broken and bare feathers puffed out as angels rushed into sight, their blades drawn. "And here I thought I'd made real inroads with you guys," Lucifer teased, and Alex's feet carried her closer to his side.

"You're wrong, serpent." One of the angels spoke, and Alex narrowed her eyes as she recognized his face; what was his name? "We loathe you. We'll always loathe you."

"Serpent." Lucifer spoke the name under his breath; despite the grin that decorated his face, a twist of his grace gave away his displeasure. "Whelp, I came here to ask a good-faith favor of you folks, but as you are clearly less than kindly disposed, perhaps you'll, uh, lend an ear to my very own Jiminy Cricket, hmm?"

His hand came to rest on Alex's shoulder, and the young angel opened her mouth, ready to remind him that the angels certainly wouldn't listen to her over him, but then Lucifer's grace was retreating. His crimson wings evaporated, immediately replaced by blue, the navy feathers torn and tattered. "Hello, brothers." Castiel's voice rasped in his throat. "Sisters."

"Castiel?" An angel spoke up from the crowd, and the seraph nodded.

The first angel — Sidriel — scoffed. "Do you think we see any daylight between you and the Adversary?" he demanded.

"Hey, listen!" Alex stepped forward, her wings fanning out, and all eyes turned onto her. "The Darkness is out there, and she's dead set on destroying everyone and everything." The angels around her exchanged looks, and she added, "Chuck —"

"Our Father is back on earth." Castiel took over, and Alex fell silent. "He's agreed to vanquish Amara again, like he did before, but she's strong, and he can't do it alone. Not without the archangels." Again the angels exchanged glances among themselves, a low murmur rising, but Castiel carried on. "He needs your help."

"Then let's hear it from _him_ ," Sidriel demanded.

Castiel's wings unfolded placidly. "In good time," he promised. "Do I have your support?"

"I can't even look at you, Castiel." The angel's lip curled, and his fingers tightened on the handle of his blade as he stepped forward. "You befouled yourself with the Deceiver."

His eyes turned onto Alex, and Lucifer's grace rose within her; clearly the archangel was listening. "You know …" Castiel spoke slowly, quietly, and Lucifer's grace stilled. "Every second I've spent with Lucifer, it's been a torment. It's destroying me. It's burning through my vessel." Alex's wings drew in close, and she hesitantly probed at his grace with her own; it immediately drew back, and Alex retreated. "But I would do it all over again, because through me, he and God will defeat the Darkness. That's my role in this fight. It's God's fight. You can play a part in that fight, too, if you join me."

"That's —"

"So what exactly is the plan?" Sidriel challenged.

Castiel's grace tremored, and his face paled before Lucifer's grace rose up, his blood red wings exploding into the air. The angels shifted back to avoid the long feathers the archangel shook out his wings with a grin. "The plan? It's simple. You're not the only team we're enlisting. Hopefully, Hell and some of earth's strongest will chip in." A muttering arose, and Lucifer clicked his tongue. "I know, I know. But with Dad and I being the only remaining members of the original line up, we need to compromise." His feathers puffed out, pride flickering in his blue eyes, but his voice remained steady. "Unless, of course, one of you has a better idea." No answer came, and he swung his gaze around the gathered crowd. "We need as many hands on deck as we can get. Is this all of you?"

"There's seven others." Sidriel hesitated, and his face darkened as he added, "There's one angel remaining in heaven's prison, but I doubt he would be willing to cooperate." The angels around him muttered out their agreement, but Lucifer merely flicked a wing.

"I can be pretty persuasive," he promised. "Why don't you let me take a shot at the guy." Alex frowned to find the angels hesitating; she had surely expected a flat-out rejection at Lucifer's offer of 'persuasion.'

However, eventually a familiar angel stepped forward from the crowd, her grey wings twitching against her back. "I'll take you there," Dumah announced. Surprise flitted along Lucifer's grace, followed immediately by amusement, and the two started down the hall, leaving Alex to pick up the rear.

The hallway wound onwards; even though it never changed, Alex could have sworn they were slowly descending. Every once and a while she would catch a glimpse a door or an intersection that looked familiar, but it wasn't until they reached the heavy metal door that marked the entrance to the prison that she recognized where they were. Despite herself, her wings twitched nervously, and she eyed Dumah; it wouldn't be the first time the angels had tricked her into prison's cells. Lucifer's grace rose against hers, a cold, soothing comfort, and Alex forced her feathers to lie flat. "Here." Dumah stopped in front of the far cell, her wings flicking sharply towards the bars.

What lay inside had Alex's feathers ruffling all over again. "What?" The blood drained from her cheeks. "Balthazar? Are you serious?"

The angel lifted his head, and amber wings, dirty and tattered, drew back to reveal blue eyes. "You know this rebel?" Dumah's voice lifted in surprise before it flattened. "Of course you do."

The statement was accompanied by a dirty look towards Lucifer, but Alex barely noticed. "What are you doing here? I thought …" She trailed off as she grabbed the bars, her head cocked to one side.

"Thought Cas killed me? He did." Scorn crept into Balthazar's tone, and he rose to his feet. "And then he unkilled me because you asked him to." He crossed the cell to grab the bars just above her hands, his eyes flashing as he leaned forward. "Next time you want to 'help,' sweetheart, don't."

Alex's wings flared, her grey eyes flashing with fire. "Nice to see you again, too. I guess next time I'll just let you die."

"I was already dead. Which was preferable to being locked up in here before being tossed down to the streets." His wings twitched, the bare vanes rattling together. "Trust me, I was laying very, very low until these mooks picked me up again."

"And … _who_ are you exactly?" Lucifer stepped up to Alex's side, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he studied the caged angel.

"He's a friend."

"I was your _babysitter_ ," Balthazar corrected crossly, and he stepped away from the bars. "Speaking of," he added, waving a hand off towards Lucifer, "is Cassie still hiding somewhere in there, or do you have the place all to yourself?"

"Cas is still there." Alex answered before Lucifer could; Balthazar just grunted. "Listen. We need your help —"

Balthazar scoffed, and Alex felt silent. "Help?" he repeated. "If you think I owe you anything, you're sorely mistaken." He dropped back down onto the stone bench at the far end of the cell, and Alex's eyes drifted onto the pale markings carved into the walls, a combination of tallies and sigils. "You _did_ have plans to come for me, right?"

"Of course! Things just got … busy." Alex glanced up at Lucifer, searching for support, but the archangel remained silent. "Cas let out the leviathans when he opened Purgatory, and everything sort of, uh, spiraled." The corner of Balthazar's lip curled up in a snarl, and she added, "Most of the time I couldn't have gotten into heaven if I'd tried, and even now I'm not sure everyone is okay with me being here."

Balthazar grunted again, his back angled away from them, and Alex's wings fell as silence followed her words. "Maybe he just needs some motivation." Lucifer shook out his wings, the long crimson feathers rustling. "Tell you what. If you chip in, we'll let you out."

Dumah's displeasure crackled through the air, and Balthazar scoffed. "And I trust you … why?"

Lucifer's wings curled down, brushing against Alex's back and the young angel stepped forward. "You trust me, right?" Her broken feathers stretched through the bars, drooping when she saw Balthazar roll his eyes. "Look, we're just trying to _help_. God — Chuck —"

She fell silent when Lucifer's hand came to rest on her shoulder. "It's a devil's bargain," he agreed; the upwards curl of his lips revealed his amusement at the phrase. "The question is, how do we know that we can trust _you_?" His free hand gestured to the iron bars. "No offense, but you hardly seem … saintly."

"You would know all about that, hmm?" Balthazar's wings twitched disparagingly. "Trust me; I would do just about anything to get out of this bloody cell."

 _Do you trust him?_ Lucifer's voice echoed through her mind, and his grace rose curiously against hers. Alex paused, gathering her thoughts before she spoke. "I believe him," she finally said. "Don't get me wrong — he'll rob you for everything you have if you turn your back, but he keeps his word."

Lucifer raised his fingers, poised to snap, and Alex felt his eyes flicker down onto her. "And this isn't going to be like the last time I let you have a pet, right?" He didn't wait for Alex's response; before her feathers could ruffle at his words, the cell door was swinging open. "I think I remember you," he said as Balthazar rose to his feet. "You got in trouble for swinging on Heaven's Gate."

Alex shifted back as Balthazar shook out his wings with a barely-disguised scowl. "That was a long time ago." He huffed as he stepped past Dumah without so much as a glance in her direction. "So what big baddie have the Winchesters released upon the world this time?" Alex's jaw tightened, and Balthazar let out a scornful laugh. "It wasn't too hard to guess, sweetheart. Those two buffoons are some of the most incompetent individuals I've ever met."

"And somehow, they're Dad's favorites," Lucifer added, bitterness creeping into his voice; the faint twitch of Balthazar's wings conveyed his agreement. "Somehow, Dean got his hands on the Mark, and now they've managed to release our dear old aunt from the hole Pops and I threw her into back before you were created. Lucky for us, Dad's back in town for a rematch."

"I'm sorry, what?" Balthazar's wings flittered, and his gaze sharpened. "Do you mean he's back back, or just 'I sent a sign' back?"

"In the flesh," Lucifer promised, and Alex frowned at the displeasure upon both angels' faces. "Who knows. Maybe if we're lucky, he'll take the team out for ice cream after the big win."

"Ha ha, very funny." Alex batted Lucifer in the arm with her wings. "I thought we agreed to stow the daddy issues."

"I see you're just as bossy as ever," Balthazar drawled, and Alex rolled her eyes.

She quickly dropped her gaze to the ground at the sight of Lucifer's frown. "Yes," he agreed. "But other than that, she's pretty well behaved."

"I'm not a _dog_ , Luce!"

Her indignation was ignored as Lucifer turned towards the door, inviting Balthazar to follow with a flick of his wings. "So, you called yourself her babysitter," he began. "I think I remember Alex mentioning you once or twice. I hope she wasn't too much of a headache."

Amusement lined his voice, and Alex felt his grace shift, egging her on towards a response. "I was twenty," she retorted hotly, jumping at the bait. "I didn't need a babysitter! I would have been fine on my own."

"Hm. That's not how I remember it." Balthazar barely spared her a look over his shoulder, and Alex glowered. "I distinctly recall you getting yourself impaled only a month after you left." Scorn sharpened his tone, fiercer than Lucifer's humored remarks. "I'd hardly call that the mark of a competent individual."

"Why is everyone — it was one time. One!" Alex rushed forward to walk at Lucifer's side. "Why does everyone feel the need to bring it up?" Her feathers ruffled, waiting for a sharp retort, but Lucifer had paused, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "What?"

"It's time to go." Lucifer turned to Dumah, who had stopped at his side. "I trust you'll see to it that our new friend here gets settled in." His hand went up to squeeze Dumah's shoulder, the amiability of the gesture undermined by the tightness of his grip and the unspoken threat behind his eyes. Her waited for Dumah to nod before he clapped his hands together. "Great. I'll have you await my signal."

He took Alex by the hand, and then they were gone. The glow of heaven disappeared, replaced with blue sky as Lucifer returned them to the earth. They landed in the bunker, and Lucifer's wings drew back to reveal Chuck seated alone at the library table. "Oh, good. You're back." Chuck took a sip from his coffee mug before he rose to his feet. "How did it go?"

"It took some convincing, but I believe we have their support," Lucifer said.

Chuck paused at the library stairs, a small frown on his face, and Alex added, "I'm not sure if you remember this, but I'm pretty sure we're considered two of the most untrustworthy angels out there. If you really want to convince them, you should just go talk to them yourself."

"No." Chuck shook his head, and he descended down into the war room, pausing to set his coffee down on the table before he turned back to them. "No, if they wouldn't have listened to you, then they wouldn't listen to me, either."

Lucifer's grace twitched, surprised, and Alex's head recoiled. "What?" she snapped before she could stop herself. "That makes absolutely no sense. They _asked_ for you. After — after everything, the least you could do is talk to them!"

"Crowley and Rowena have agreed to fight," Chuck announced, turning to Lucifer, and Alex's feathers bristled at how she was brushed aside. "There's an old power plant near Ames. Sam and Dean will meet us there." His eyes swung over onto Alex, and hesitation flickered through his eyes before he steeled himself. "If there's anything you need, I suggest you get it now."

...

 **Ames, Iowa**

 **T** he abandoned plant sat between two hills, hidden from sight save for its two concrete smoke stacks that stretched up into the sky. Their peaks were obscured by the low grey clouds, and Alex craned her next to see up through the fog. "We're sure this place is safe?" she asked, and she felt Lucifer's feathers brush against her leg.

"Amara won't find us here," Chuck promised, and Alex turned to find him already in the darkened doorway. "Not until we want her to, anyways." He disappeared into the building, and Lucifer followed without a moment's hesitation. He held a large spear in his right hand, a weapon retrieved from hell before their arrival at the plant. It took her a few seconds, but Alex eventually trailed after him, her grace flicking out through the fog before she stepped through the door.

Lucifer stood by himself, his fingers dancing over the shaft of his weapon as he examined the metal lancet, and Alex frowned. "Where's Chuck?" she asked, and she turned her eyes around the dusty room, unable to hide a frown at the grim interior.

"Gone. Said he forgot something." Lucifer straightened up with a shake of his wings. "He also said Sam and Dean are almost here." He leaned the spear up against a steel support column, beckoning her closer with a crooked finger. Alex obeyed, her broken wings curling forward as she stopped at his side. "You shouldn't be here." The words came as a low murmur, and Alex frowned. "Amara is dangerous — she's more than dangerous. If this doesn't go according to plan —"

"If you think you're sending me away for one moment, I swear to God —" Alex cut off, her tongue tripping over the curse, and she hurriedly glanced behind her in search of Chuck. "I'm not leaving," she finally restated. "It's my fight as well as yours. And I'll be damned if you of all people are going to sideline me." Lucifer's wings twitched, and Alex's nostrils flared. "I'm stronger than Sam, stronger than Dean, stronger than _anything_ Crowley or Rowena can muster up. I deserve to be here!"

A car door slammed, and Lucifer's wings twitched. "If this goes sideways, everyone here is dead."

"I know." Alex crossed her arms, but Lucifer merely shrugged as his eyes slid past her towards the door. Footsteps approached — two pairs — and Alex turned to watch Sam and Dean enter the building. "You're here." With a sigh, she stepped away from Lucifer to greet the brothers. "Chuck will be back shortly. Where are the others?"

"Rowena's here." Crowley appeared at Alex's side. "Give her a minute to find her way in." He adjusted his black tie as he turned his eyes across his companions, lingering a second longer on Lucifer.

"Crowley." Lucifer's lip curled up into a cold grin as he joined them, and Alex shifted sideways to put herself squarely between the two. "You're looking well."

Alex saw Sam and Dean exchange looks out of the corner of her eye, their faces dark with apprehension. Lucifer's mouth opened, ready to say more, but Crowley cut him off. "I don't hold grudges," he said with a dismissive shake of his head. "Besides, that dog collar was a lovely touch. Really made my eyes pop. Almost wore it here today."

Lucifer's grin widened, and Alex felt his grace twist in amusement at the demon's scornful tone. "Oh, I'm glad you're such a good sport." His eyes turned past Crowley. "Hey, Red. Looking gorgeous as ever," he teased, and Alex twisted around in time to see Rowena enter, her thin face set stoically. "Hey, I think a little apology is in order."

The smile on his face offset any sincerity that might have been lingering in his words, and Rowena paused, the faintest hint of fear flickering behind her cold eyes before it was quelled. "You think you're the first man who's tried to kill me?" she retorted with a sniff. Her gaze slid past them onto Crowley. "Hello, Fergus."

"Mother." Crowley's voice was as flat as Rowena's, and Alex watched him straightened up beneath the witch's stare. She opened her mouth, ready to interject before either could say anything more, but a flash of light had her immediately snapping her jaw shut.

"Hello, my children." Chuck stood in front of them, and Alex missed Crowley's surprised, "Him?" as Lucifer scoffed under his breath. "Rowena. Crowley." Chuck nodded to each of them in turn. "It's good to finally meet you in person."

Rowena drew in a breath, sharp yet soft, and Alex rolled her eyes as she dropped down into a bow. "Sorry about, well, everything I've ever done in my life," she rushed out. "Really, y-you can't have been a fan."

Lucifer coughed, a pale attempt at covering his amusement at the witch's ramblings, but Chuck merely smiled. "Oh, yeah, I've been quietly rooting against you both for quite some time. Although," he admitted after a moment, "I can't deny that you're one of my guilty pleasures."

"Oh, God." Rowena's giggle was lost beneath Crowley's muttered, "Oh, god."

"Alright, alright, no flirting," Dean snapped. "And no fighting," he added when Crowley glared over at his mother.

"Yeah, and no deals," Sam finished. "No talks about who is owed what if we survive this. Nobody here likes each other, but that doesn't matter. We only have the fight ahead."

Alex watched as an uneasy glance was cast about the room, and she felt Lucifer's wings rise up, curling around her to usher her closer to him. "Amara's looking for me," Chuck announced. "But I'm warded against her, for now. The second I drop the warding, she'll show." His eyes flickered upwards, and for a moment, he paused. "She'll be expecting a fight, and we'll give it to her." His finger went out to point at Crowley, Lucifer, and Rowena, in turn. "You have your troops in position?" His eyes turned across them, pausing when Rowena lifted her hand with a small cough. "Yes, Rowena?"

"Fabulous plan, God," the witch gushed, "but … doesn't this strategy strike anyone as a wee bit … un-strategic?"

"Is that sequence set in stone?" Crowley added. "Demon, angel, witch power? Seems to me that the first response should come from the most disposable force."

"Right!" Lucifer agreed. "Good argument, doggie. Demons first it is." He thumped Crowley on the shoulder, his grace prickling humorously as the force of the gesture almost sent the demon stumbling forward a step.

"The weakest should go first," Crowley ground out, straightening himself with a sharp huff. "Naturally, that means the witches."

"Enough," Sam snapped, and Alex reached out to put a hand on Lucifer's arm at the sight of Chuck's impatient frown.

He waited until silence had fallen before he spoke once again. "After that," he said, and Alex felt Lucifer straighten up under his father's stare. "It's Lucifer's turn. Physical attack. One on one."

"What about Cas?" Dean's demand came sharp and loud, and Lucifer turned with a heavy sigh.

"Oh, don't worry," he promised, and Alex shifted away from him as Dean's glare turned onto her. "Your pet's safety is my highest concern." Dean gave a heavy roll of his eyes, and some of the humor faded from Lucifer's face. "Trust me, he's on board."

"Once she's been weakened, I will take the Mark back from Amara and use it to seal her away." Chuck's solemn blue eyes moved from Lucifer to Sam. "You ready?"

Sam nodded, and Alex's feathers prickled. "Ready?" she repeated, turning to the Winchester. "Ready for what?"

Her sentiment was echoed by Dean, and Sam squared his shoulders under the scrutiny of their combined gazes. "God and I talked about this. Someone needs to bear the Mark."

"Well, then it should be me." Dean's gaze swung up onto Chuck. "I-I've had it before. I'm damaged goods." Alex opened her mouth, ready to volunteer, but her jaw snapped shut when Lucifer's grace rose up within her; it gripped her tightly, a cold warning, and Alex drew her wings in as she lowered her gaze.

Chuck's eyes swept past her. "Exactly, Dean," she heard him say. "You've already been tainted. I can't transfer it to you." He gestured down to Sam when Dean's frown deepened even further. "He volunteered."

"First Cas is making kamikaze side plans, and now you?" Dean turned on Sam, eyes ablaze. At the same moment, Crowley and Lucifer's eyes met, and Alex paused, torn between the two avenues of conversation.

"What makes you think that demons are the weakest?" Crowley challenged, and Alex turned her attention onto him with a small sigh. "What about the angels? I haven't exactly seen them do anything."

Lucifer's tongue flicked out, teasing at his lips as he shook his head. "I'm just saying, angels _can_ hurt her. It's worked before."

"If you call giving Amara a mild case of the pukes working."

"We're trying to disorientate her as much as hurt her," Rowena reminded stiffly, and Alex grumbled as she shifted sideways to let the witch into their circle. "You underestimate witchcraft, Fergus. Always have." She let out a dry chuckle, and Alex stepped closer to Lucifer, her thin wings flicking in displeasure.

Crowley carried on as if Rowena had never spoken. "If anything, she's inoculated," he insisted. "A full-scale demon attack. That's our x-factor."

Lucifer's head fell back in a scornful laugh, and Alex glanced over her shoulder towards Sam and Dean. They were still still deep in their argument, and her wings twitched as her grey eyes darted over to Chuck; he was watching them silently, his face unreadable. "Wait." She spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, but it took a moment for silence to fall. "So, what about me and Dean?" She jerked a finger to motion between herself and Winchester. "What exactly is our role in this?"

"You stay out of our way." Lucifer pulled her back into his chest, his arms locking around her waist to keep her near, and Alex's cheeks flushed with heat as she fruitlessly tried to pry herself free. "Let the adults do their jobs, alright?"

He released his grip, and Alex stumbled forward, her wings flaring out to catch herself before she fell. "I'm not leaving," she snapped. "If this whole thing goes sideways, I'm going with it."

She lifted her chin as Lucifer's wings flapped twice, displeased, but he kept his mouth shut. "No one's going to make you leave," Chuck promised. "You're just as invaluable as anyone here." Dean scoffed, but Chuck's eyes moved past him to rest on Rowena. "You've been in Amara's head before, correct?" He waited for her to nod before he let out a hum. "Good. That means you should be able to find your way back in. You can use that to draw her here."

Rowena dipped in a quick curtesy before she hurried towards the door, murmuring something about needing to alert the other members of her coven — Alex had stopped listening long before her mouth had opened. Lucifer had stepped away from Crowley to retrieve his spear, testing the weight of it in his hands. He paused, and Alex pushed her grace into his when it stilled. "The angels are ready," he announced. "They'll strike once Amara arrives."

"Demons are waiting on my command," Crowley added; Lucifer gave a curt nod, and Alex retreated back to his side, her cheeks burning as she felt Dean's frown follow her across the room.

"I've taken down the warding." The room had fallen so quiet, Chuck's soft voice reverberated off of the walls. "Amara will be here shortly." Lucifer's wings ushered Alex closer to the far wal, and she spluttered out her protests until his grace rose up to silence her. His feathers surrounded her, hiding her away as the air around them changed.

" _Attenuare_!" Rowena's shout was muffled by the concrete, and all of a sudden, Alex was very grateful for the wings that were tucked around her. She could feel the witchcraft that thrummed through the air, strengthening tenfold with each passing second. The building was beginning to shake around them, and Alex ducked through Lucifer's feathers to seek out Chuck; he hadn't moved, his face unreadable.

"Enough!" The building shook again at Amara's roar, and thunder crackled overhead. There was screaming — not from Rowena, but from seemingly everywhere at once, and the magic vanished from the air.

The thunder came again, and this time Alex recognized it. A second later, the ground pitched beneath her feet as the windows flashed white. Her grace rose up within her, spurred on by the cascade of heaven's power that flooded the small valley around them; if it hadn't been for Chuck, the entire building surely would have collapsed. Alex could feel his might in the air, surrounding the room and protecting those inside; it didn't even flinch under the brunt of heaven's full force. Before the white glow had even had a chance to fade, the power plant began to shake once again. Demons.

The lights above Alex's head exploded, sending down a shower of sparks raining down upon them. Alex grabbed onto Lucifer's arm to steady herself as the world outside exploded into chaos.

There was a scream, and Alex spun around, her frail wings drawn in fearfully. Lucifer's grace shifted, and Alex's heard pounded at the spark of worry that flickered across his face. Crowley had vanished; Alex turned in time to see the side door swing closed, and seconds later, red smoke spiraled past the windows and into the blackened air. The scream came again, this time sharp with pain and surprise.

Then, everything was silent. The door swung open, and Amara stumbled through. Cuts decorated her arms, crimson on white, and blood stained her lips. "Hello, brother." She staggered forward, and Alex stepped back, wings flittering as Lucifer moved off behind her, circling past the Darkness; if Amara noticed, she gave no sign, her eyes fixed upon Chuck. "You cheated. Again." She stopped, and out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw Dean step forward, stopped only by Sam's hand on his shoulder. "But —"

Amara cut off with a scream as Lucifer surged forward, thrusting his spear through her ribs. The tip protruded from her abdomen, red with her blood, and Amara crumbled the concrete floor. Lucifer yanked the weapon free, his wings lifting as he positioned himself to strike again, but Chuck lifted a hand. "Ah!" he warned. "Son." Lucifer hesitated, his feathers ruffling as Amara whimpered in pain, but he obediently took a step back as Chuck sighed. "I'm sorry. For this for everything."

"An apology at last." Amara ground out the words through clenched teeth, and Alex saw Dean squeeze his eyes shut as Amara shuddered. "What's sorry to me? I spent _millions_ of years crammed into that cage, alone and afraid, wishing — begging — for death because of you! And what was my crime, brother?"

"The world needed to be born! And you wouldn't let me!" Chuck crouched down beside his sister, and his voice softened. "Amara, you gave me no choice."

"That's your story. Not mine." Amara struggled to push herself up, but her legs gave out, and she fell back onto the floor. "The real reason you banished me, why I couldn't be allowed to exist — you couldn't stand it." Her voice trembled, and she planted her palms against the floor to keep herself from tipping; despite her pain, her voice was strong and scornful. "Yeah, we're equals. We weren't great or powerful because we stood only in relation to each other. You think you made the archangels to bring bright light? No." She scoffed, and Alex cast a glance over at Lucifer. "You made them to create lesser beings, to make you large." With a pained groan, Amara struggled up to stand on trembling legs. "To make you Lord. It was ego! You wanted to be big!"

Alex moved back behind the Winchester, circling past Amara to find Lucifer; the archangel was watching Amara, his wings folded stiffly behind his back. "That's true." Chuck sighed as he rose to his feet to match his sister's height. "But it isn't the whole truth. There's a value, a ploy in creation that's greater and truer than my pride of my ego."

"Are you okay?" Alex stopped beside Lucifer, and she curled her wings around him as she let her fear slowly show upon her face. His grace rose up, chasing away her anxiety and leaving only a cold calm behind, and Alex let her eyes fall closed as he drew her close.

"No! No, no, no!" Amara's scream had Alex ripping herself free from Lucifer's hold, spinning in time to see the Mark burning at Sam's arm. The Winchester's teeth were grit in pain, his eyes squeezed shut as he forced himself to breathe through his nose.

"I'm sorry." Chuck's whisper was almost lost beneath Amara's scream.

"No!" she wailed. "Not again!" Her eyes snapped open, and Amara lunged forward. Her hand wrapped around Chuck's neck and thrust him upwards, dangling him above the ground. "Not ever again!" Chuck's nails scrabbled at Amara's hands as he gasped for air, and the air crackled as she lifted him higher, past the reach of her arms and towards the roof.

Lucifer threw himself forward with a shout, and the bloody spear swung upwards towards the Darkness. Amara's hand flung out to catch him midair, and Alex dove to the ground as Lucifer was thrown backwards past her head. "Goodbye, nephew."

The air froze over, and Lucifer's grace boiled within Alex. A raw scream rose in her throat as it was ripped away from hers, torn at the roots; it tried to cling to her, swelling up until it burned at her eyes, but it was no match for Amara's power. Castiel's face lit up in a bright light, and Alex's head hit the floor as it faded.

Someone shouted her name, and Alex felt hands pull her up into strong arms. She gripped blindly at the sleeve as she waited for the darkness that stung her eyes to fade. "I'd die a million times and murder you a million more before going back there," she heard Amara shout, and Alex forced her grace upwards to see. It moved slowly — clumsily — and the world before her blurred together in hues of brown and black. The hands around her tightened — Sam's hands. Alex could smell him from where she sat tucked against his chest. "Tell me." Amara's voice reverberated off of the bare walls. "If you won't change, why should I?"

The room was growing clearer, but the brown had faded into black. Alex squinted to make out Amara, a pale, fuzzy shape against a twisting black background. Chuck screamed, hidden behind the blackness, and something in the corner of her eye stumbled forward. "Amara, no!" Dean reached out for her, and Alex squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to force the grey spots away. Lucifer's grace was gone; its absence left an open wound within her, a deep and oozing pain that sucked the strength from her very bones.

She twisted in Sam's arms, eyes snapping open as she sought out Lucifer, but Sam held her fast. "Shh!" he hissed, and the urgency in his voice had Alex immediately stilling. "Don't move."

A bright light was starting to break through the black tendrils, growing brighter with each of Chuck's screams until Sam pressed his face into her hair, shielding his eyes. And then, the light suddenly died. "Sorry, brother." The blackness drew back at Amara's words, and Alex couldn't hold back the hoarse shriek as Chuck's body hit the concrete floor mere inches from her leg. His blue eyes were dull, his skin battered and bloody.

Sam's grip on her tightened as Amara's eyes turned onto her. "No." Dean staggered towards them, and Amara turned away. "Amara, what have you done?"

"He's dead." Sam's voice rasped in his throat, and his fingers dug into Alex's shoulders, forcing her to tear her eyes away from Chuck. "God's dead."

"No," Amara corrected. "He's dying." As if on cue, Chuck's chest rose and fell in the faintest hint of a breath. "My brother will dim and fade away into nothing, but not until he sees what comes next. Not until he watches this world, everything he created, everything he loves, turn to ash." She turned to Dean, and their eyes locked before she vanished, leaving her final words clinging to the air. "Welcome to the end."

...

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 **On Thursday I'll post the last chapter I have written; it's shorter than most and will serve as a prologue of sorts for the next installment, so unless you follow me as an author, you won't get a notification. Just check my page, and you'll see it there. As always, thanks for reading and thanks for all the support!**


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